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TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 


AND OTHER YARNS 


MISS SIEETSER’S OTHER BOOR 


Micky of the Alley 
and other Youngsters 

Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25. 

“A delightful little book for 
the young.” 


D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK 






Of course we ought if we want to! What’s to hinder? 

(See page 44. ) 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 


AND OTHER YARNS 


BY 

KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER 

M 

AUTHOR OF MICKY OF THE ALLEY, TEN BOYS FROM DICKENS AND 
TEN GIRLS. FROM DICKENS 


ILLUSTRATED BT 
GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 


■> > 

> > > 

> > ’ 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1904 



nntvi9i}f:ss 

TVd rtor>j« J?(icMVBd 

SEP 20 1904 


5e4i. 


Entry 

OL XXe. N& 

oepv B • 






COPTRIGHT, 1904, BT 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published, September, 1904 


Copyright by The Century Company, The 
Youth’s Companion, The Holiday Maga- 
zine, The Churchniaf(, a^d Cottage Hearth. 


COISTTEN^TS 

PAGE 

Teddy Baird’s Luck 1 

Betty’s Idea 37 

Mardie’s Experience 65 

The Boys’ Ball 97 

Evelyn’s Impulse 109 

Marjorie’s Scheme 135 

Three Cheers for Bonnie 151 



LIST OF ILLUSTEATIOKS 


FACING 

PAGE 

Of course we ought if we want to! What’s to hin- 
der ? Frontispiece 

“Now, here’s a book that is sure to live” . . . 86 

One of the results of the boys’ ball .... 104 
No woman had ever been so bold before . . . 170 ^ 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 



TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 


It was Commencement day at Harvey 
Academy; all the exercises were over and 
the diplomas had been awarded. Mr. Shedd, 
professor of literature, then announced that 
at the beginning of the fall term he would 
give a prize to the member of his advanced 
class bringing in the best account of an ad- 
venture which had happened to him during 
the summer. The adventure described must 
be a genuine occurrence, and the story must 
be written in a clear but picturesque style. 

^The prize,’’ he added, ^Vill be a member- 
ship ticket in the Acorn Athletic Club. This 
is a rare chance for some one, and I hope you 
will all try for it.” 

While he spoke the boys had been ex- 
changing eager glances, and then they broke 
3 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 
into hearty applause, and nodded to each 
other, as much as to say, ^^Indeed we willT’ 
The Acorn Club was one which offered su- 
perior advantages in its gymnasium and 
bowling-alleys, and which admitted only a 
limited number of junior members through 
the influence of seniors. As Professor 
Shedd had been one of the charter mem- 
bers of the club, he was able to offer this 
prize to his boys, and a thrill of delight shot 
through each lad at the possibility ahead. 

Teddy Baird was one of the most enthusi- 
astic athletes in the school, and had long 
wanted to be one of the A. A. C.’s. At once 
he began to make pl*ans for having an ad- 
venture, and by the time he reached home 
his eyes were shining with excitement, and 
his round freckled face was beaming with 
anticipation. 

can get it, and I WILL!’^ he announced 
to his father, in a most decisive manner. 

‘‘Good!’’ said Mr. Baird, heartily. “That is 
the right spirit, my son, but how about the 
adventure?” 


4 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

“Oh, that^s easy enough answered Teddy, 
happily, and went off whistling. 

From that time on, through the three 
months of his vacation, the prize ‘was always 
the uppermost thought in Teddy’s mind; but 
it did not take him long to discover that find- 
ing a subject for his story was not so easy a 
matter, after all. 

“It’s the funniest thing,” he observed, 
sadly, one day when he felt particularly dis- 
couraged; “I am so lucky that I am unlucky, 
and that’s the truth. Nothing ever happens 
to me; even the birds go to sleep when I come 
around.” 

At this Mrs. Baird smiled, for it seemed 
utterly impossible to conceive of anything 
sleeping when Teddy was near; but he did 
not notice the smile, and continued, soberly: 
“It’s funny, honest Injun, it is! If there’s a 
runaway, it stops quicker’n a wink when I 
come in sight; or if there’s a fire, it goes out 
when I turn the corner. There isn’t so much 
as a hot-box on a train, if I’ha in it.” 

“I should think you would be in great de- 
5 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

mand as an accident-preventer/’ said grand- 
ma in her soft, low voice; but Teddy only 
groaned in reply, and drawing himself up in 
a dignified manner, declared, firmly: wonT 
be balked; I just WON’T, so there!” 

Shortly after the first of July the family 
went to the seashore, and for a month Teddy 
patiently held himself in readiness for an 
adventure. He rowed and sailed, fished and 
swam, and sat on the beach for hours at a 
time, watching the bathers, in hopes of an 
adventure; but he caught no wonderfully 
large fish, no boat in which he embarked 
showed even the slightest inclination to cap- 
size, and an unsympathetic public refused to 
drown for his benefit. 

^Talk about the perils of the sea!” he said, 
scornfully, on the day when he took his last 
look at the beach from the stage window; 
‘fit’s a million times safer’n land.” But he 
added, with a show of cheerfulness, “Well, 
now, let’s see what the mountains can do for 
a fellow. I am going to try getting eaten by 
bears, or shot instead of a deer.” 

6 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

“Do/’ said Mrs. Baird, calmly. Teddy’s 
statements never ruffled her in the least. 
“Do, dear; it would be so pleasant for me! 
And in that case you could so easily write 
up the story of your exciting adventure.” 

They both laughed, but Teddy added, so- 
berly: “Honestly, mother, I’m afraid you 
don’t realize how serious this is getting to 
be. I have got to get that prize.” 

But Mrs. Baird’s answer was so hopeful 
and comforting that his spirits revived some- 
what, and he decided that if there was an 
adventure to be found anywhere, it would 
come to light in the woods; consequently he 
was in a more cheerful frame of mind dur- 
ing the remainder of their trip to the Adiron- 
dacks, where they were to stay until the last 
of August. 

Mrs. Baird stopped at the Blue Mountain 
Lake Hotel, while Teddy joined a party of 
boys and went farther into the woods, to 
camp out. It was an entirely new experience 
to him, and he enjoyed it hugely. From day- 
break often until late at night they were off 
7 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

tramping, hunting, or fishing; and in the eve- 
nings, when they sat around their camp-fire, 
the guides would tell such marvelous tales 
of blood-curdling adventures that the boys 
felt they had strayed into the country of the 
^^Arabian Nights.’’ To Teddy the stories, 
told in the rough language of the natives, 
offered a great temptation. 

^Tf I only could tell some of them, I’d be 
sure to get the prize,” he sighed. ‘‘Those 
things might have happened to us, only they 
didn’t; that’s all the difference. My! what 
a show they’d make on paper!” 

But his conscience was much too honest 
to allow of his using the coveted material 
so near at hand, and he was still at a loss 
for the subject of his prize story. One of 
the boys had shot a deer, two had a narrow 
escape from drowning, and another had been 
lost in the woods for half a day; but as none 
of these were his own experiences, Teddy did 
not feel justified in using them, and not a 
single thing worth writing about happened 
to him personally. He had some amusing 
8 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

episodes, of course, during the three weeks; 
but as adventures, none of them seemed to 
be thrilling enough. 

‘^Some fellows can work on their imagina- 
tions and get all sorts of fine things out of 
nothing,” he observed, sadly; ‘^but ’tain’t so 
with T. B. Give me facts, or I’m a gone 
goose!” But then he added, with his usual 
philosophy: ^T’r’aps something’ll turn up 
yet; ’twon’t come any quicker for worrying, 
I s’pose,” and he dismissed the matter from 
his mind for the few remaining days of 
their stay in camp, and simply enjoyed him- 
self. 

He was as brown as an Indian when his 
mother saw him again, and she was well sat- 
isfied that the change had benefited him; but 
she did not question him about the essay, 
feeling sure that if he had had an adventure 
she would hear about it at once. He did not 
mention the subject for some time, then he 
said, abruptly, as if he did not care to dwell 
on the matter: ^^Say, where do you suppose 
that luck of mine you used to talk about 
2 9 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

so much has gone to, mother? It seems to 
have shied clear of Massachusetts and New 
York State, not to mention New Jersey! If 
you could suggest where I might meet it, I’d 
take the next train, for my time’s ’most up, 
you know.” 

^^My dear,” said Mrs. Baird, soothingly, 
^Mon’t give up quite yet. There are still 
three weeks of vacation, and that is time for 
all sorts of strange things to happen. You 
were lucky from the minute you were born, 
and I am not willing to believe yet that you 
have lost the prize. Are you sure you can’t 
take some little incident, even if it does seem 
small to you, and make it into an amusing 
story? I am certain there must be some- 
thing you could use, if you only thought 
so.” 

But Teddy shook his head. ^^Can’t be done 
by T. B., ma’am,” he said. ^‘You should have 
had a more brilliant son. I mooned around 
up in camp with a ream of paper in my lap, 
a pencil in my hand, and a far-off gaze in my 
eyes, waiting for an idea to flood my intel- 
10 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

lect, till the fellows guyed me so I had to 
quit. Honest, mother, there wasn’t a thing 
but happens to other people every day in the 
week.” 

Mrs. Baird looked thoughtful for a mo- 
ment, then she said, eagerly: 

have it! Why not write an account of 
what did 7iot happen? Tell all about the 
thrilling things that might have occurred, 
and the funny way in which they seemed to 
avoid you. I am sure no one else will think 
of that!” 

Teddy beamed, and grasped her arm in an 
ecstatic squeeze. 

^Wou’re a brick!” he exclaimed. “I guess 
you’ve hit it, and we’ll get that ticket yet! 
You are some good, mother, after all!” This 
was said with a comical twinkle of his blue 
eyes, and Mrs. Baird made him a little bow. 

^^Thank you, my son,” she said, laughingly. 
“ ^Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is 
praise indeed!’” 

The new idea pleased Teddy more and 
more as he thought about it. Sentences and 
11 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

pages began to form themselves in his brain, 
and it seemed as if he could not wait to put 
them on paper. 

^^I’ll begin the minute we get to Aunt 
Sarah^s,” he said. And his mother was de- 
lighted that she had been able to help him, 
for she knew how persistently he had tried 
to help himself. 

They reached the home of Mrs. Baird^s sis- 
ter, in Tarrytown, the next day, and settled 
down for the visit which was to end up their 
summer outing. Aunt Sarah’s boys, Tom 
and Herbert, were Teddy’s greatest chums, 
so the meeting was an enthusiastic one on 
both sides, and it seemed as if the boys could 
never finish telling each other of all their 
doings since they last met. Of course, it 
was not long before Teddy had told about 
the prize and his struggles for it, and then 
he spoke of his mother’s new idea, and every 
one thought it a fine one. 

^^You are sure to get the ticket, Teddy,” 
said Aunt Sarah; ‘‘you are always so lucky.” 

“So I’ve heard,” said Teddy, dryly. “I wish 
12 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 
you^d introduce me to that luck, Aunt Sarah; 
I don’t happen to have seen it myself.” 

On each day, as it came, he meant to begin 
his writing, but there were so many delight- 
ful plans to be carried out that he never 
could find time, and whenever he suggested 
taking an hour for writing, the boys always 
refused to let him, and suggested a bicycle- 
ride, or a swim, or a ball game, and Teddy 
weakly yielded, until the edge was off his 
enthusiasm and five days of the visit were 
gone. 

On the sixth day it rained hard, and as 
soon as breakfast was over Teddy announced 
his determination of going to his room to 
write, and threatened all sorts of dire possi- 
bilities to the person who should disturb 
him. So away he went. But before he had 
even finished his elaborate process of pencil- 
sharpening there was a smothered shout at 
the door, and in burst Herbert and Tom, took 
the room by storm, confiscated the pencils, 
and made so much noise that connected 
thinking was impossible. Mrs. Baird, sitting 
13 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 
in an opposite room, heard the chorus of 
groans, whistles, and laughter that followed 
the onslaught; and finally, after the mail 
came, she put down her work and went to 
see what was going on. On the threshold 
she stopped with an exclamation of dismay. 

<^Why, boys,’’ she said, gazing about, “you 
look as if a cyclone had struck you! What 
are you doing?” 

In one corner of the rooni Tom and Her- 
bert were fencing with the gravity of pro- 
fessionals, while Teddy lay on the fioor, heels 
in the air, evidently in a state of exhaustion, 
watching the contest. The fioor and bed and 
chairs were strewn with clothes, bicycle- 
tools, books, paper, a camera outfit, dumb- 
bells, Indian clubs, and every other article 
that could add to the general disorder. On 
a chair reposed a large bowl of black fiuid, 
evidently ink; a tripod stood in the corner, 
and Ted’s bicycle leaned against the wall. 
Small wonder that Mrs. Baird gasped, and 
repeated, “What are you doing?” 

At the sound of her voice Teddy slowly 
14 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

rose from his position on the floor, and a 
comical smile broke over his face. ^^We’re 
having a last try at making things happen,’’ 
he said. You’re right about the gale; it 
struck us more’n an hour ago, and blew all 
these things around. We put up danger-sig- 
nals to warn relatives off the coast. But now 
you’re here, won’t you have a seat?” 

The civility was offered with a wave of the 
hand toward the room in general, and Mrs. 
Baird acknowledged the courtesy by taking 
the only vacant seat in sight, which w^s on 
the extreme edge of the bed. And then she 
asked her question for the third time, add- 
ing: thought you were going to write your 

essay.” 

^Was” — Teddy was evidently too weary 
to amplify his sentence — ^Vas, but I couldn’t 
make the thing hang together. I couldn’t 
write a word. The wheels of my brain would 
not go round, then the boys came up, and we 
thought we’d make another try at having 
things happen. That’s why all these duds 
are around.” 


15 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

took the clock to pieces to see if we 
couldn’t make it go without so many 
wheels/’ explained Herbert. 

“And can not get it together again?” Mrs. 
Baird was looking at the machinery with 
which the mantel was covered, but no one 
answered her question, and Herbert went 
on: 

“We’ve tried all sorts of strange stunts 
with clubs and dumb-bells and fencing, to 
see if we couldn’t get some bone out of joint 
and in again, in a queer way; then we tried 
putting some of your lithia tablets — the fiz- 
zing ones that you use for your rheumatism, 
you know — in the ink. Tom was sure it 
would make an elegant spouting geyser and 
a chemical rainbow, but it only ” 

“Spilled the ink all over the fioor,” Mrs. 
Baird finished up the sentence, adding, 
quickly: “I think you have acted very much 
like silly small boys of about ten years old, 
and I am mortified that my son should show 
so little common sense.” 

“Well, anyway, nothing’s any good,” said 
16 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

Teddy, mournfully. ^^Don’t hit a fellow, 
mother, when he’s down. I’m clean discour- 
aged. What shall I do?” 

‘^Do?” Mrs. Baird’s voice had a cheerful 
ring. ^Why, clear up this mess, of course, 
or Aunt Sarah will think you never learned 
to be neat.” 

Here Tom hastily interposed: “We’ll help. 
We made as much of it as he did.” 

Mrs. Baird nodded and smiled at him, and 
went on : “Put your paper away now, Teddy, 
and try again to-morrow and every day, un- 
til you accomplish your task. But here is a 
letter from Cousin Ellie Holcombe. She 
wants you to ride over on your wheel to- 
morrow, and spend the night. Cousin Frank 
is away, and she says you can protect them.” 

“Good!” Teddy jumped up, and smiled 
with importance. “I’d like nothing better. 
I’m all twisted up in the old essay. I’ll put 
it away till I come back, and then I’ll work 
like a trooper till it’s done, see if I don’t! 
Will you mind if I go, boys? It’s a year since 
I’ve been over to Sunnybrook.” 

17 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

As it seemed to be the only thing to do, 
both boys nodded agreement; but they 
looked very mournful until Teddy suggested 
that they ride over with him as far as the 
turnpike, a distance of ten miles; and then, 
after the room was restored to order, they 
all went down into the cellar to clean their 
wheels for the trip. 

The sun shone its brightest the next morn- 
ing, and the roads were fairly dry; so they 
made an early start, and by eleven o’clock 
Teddy was in sight of the big, old stone house 
where his cousins lived. He found a party 
of twenty waiting for him, ready to start for 
a day at some falls, about three miles away; 
and as soon as he had said a few words to 
Mrs. Holcombe, who was not going with 
them, they set out. It was a perfect day; the 
sky was a deep, cloudless blue, and the air 
was so crisp and clear that it put them all 
in their highest spirits, and Teddy forgot in 
ten minutes that there was such a thing as 
a prize to compete for and lose. A wagon 
had gone ahead with the luncheon, which 
18 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

was all spread out in tempting array when 
they reached the falls, and there was very 
little looking at the beauties of nature until 
most of the sandwiches and dainties had dis- 
appeared. Then they lounged by the falls, 
told stories, wandered off in the woods, and 
did all sorts of pleasant things, until the sun 
warned them of the lateness of the hour, and 
with reluctance they started homeward, 
dropping one after another of the party on 
the way, so that at last there were only the 
girls and Teddy to ride up the Sunnybrook 
lane. Any one who did not know the truth 
would have thought they had eaten nothing 
for days, as they rushed into the house with 
a chorus of: ^^Oh, mother, we’re starved 
alive!” ^^Got any bread for some ravenous 
tramps?” ^ Where is supper? We are nearly 
famished!” And Mrs. Holcombe, with quiet 
amusement, watched her bountiful supper 
disappear. 

There was a big wood-fire crackling mer- 
rily in the hall, and, when there was no more 
supper to dispose of, they gathered around 
19 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 
it, the girls in easy-chairs and Teddy on the 
rug. Then a sudden quietness fell on them 
all. The effect of having been out in the 
crisp air all day and coming into the warmth 
made their cheeks glow, and gave them a 
comfortable feeling of drowsiness. There 
was absolute stillness, until Mrs. Holcombe 
came and sat down near them. 

^‘Now, Teddy,” she said, ^Vake up. You 
must talk to me for a while. The others 
have had you all day. I want to hear what 
you and your mother have been doing.” 

Teddy smiled, roused himself, and gave an 
account of their journeyings in a drowsy 
voice; and then he told of the prize story, 
and how he had been trying to write one. 

^^But, you see,” he said, ^^whenever I put 
down on paper what I’ve done, all the ^go’ 
is out of it. The things don’t fit together 
in any kind of shape. There isn’t really 
enough to make a good story, and that’s the 
truth.” 

‘T’ll tell you what,” said Helen, ^^tell it all 
over just as you did to mama, and don’t think 
20 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

about writing it, and I’ll put it down as you 
tell it. Then you can polish it up afterward.” 

^‘All right. Now?” Teddy jumped up, his 
drowsiness gone, and was starting off in 
search of a pencil, but Mrs. Holcombe said, 
firmly : 

^^No, indeed; not now. Just see the time! 

' We must be shutting up for the night.” 

While they were locking doors and win- 
dows, the girls teased Teddy mirthfully 
about being protector of three helpless 
women; then the lights were put out and the 
house was still. Teddy, who was very sleepy, 
was in bed in less time than it takes to tell 
about it, and fast asleep; and it seemed only 
a minute later when he woke with a start, 
and heard a queer noise outside his window. 
For a moment he lay still, scarcely breath- 
ing, listening to the sounds; then, as he be- 
came wider awake, he decided that some one 
was certainly trying to enter the house. 
There were surely men talking in low tones 
beneath his window. He stole over, peered 
through the blinds, and could see two figures 
21 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

below. The men were evidently going to en- 
ter by the butler’s pantry window, and in a 
few seconds would be in the house. What 
was it best to do? Should he rouse the fam- 
ily, or could he frighten off the burglars 
alone? In a moment he had decided. From 
his earliest childhood Teddy had been abso- 
lutely fearless, and now he made up his mind 
that he could protect the house without even 
awaking his cousins. 

Turning up the gas, he hastily threw on his 
bath-robe, unbolted his door, and stole softly 
out into the dark, still hall, lighting the gas 
there. Then he crept noiselessly down-stairs 
and lighted up the parlor and sitting-room, 
hearing all the time the low murmur of the 
voices outside. Then he went into the dining- 
room; but there he stood aghast, for the light 
revealed that he was too late! Both of the 
windows were wide open, remnants of a feast 
were scattered over the table and floor, and 
the sideboard was bare of silver. He gave 
one gasp, stood for a second paralyzed with 
astonishment, and then rushed out into the 
22 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

hall, for no particular reason, really too 
much excited to know what he was doing. 
In his rush he upset a chair, which fell 
against the fire-irons with a crash, and al- 
most instantly a white-gowned figure ap- 
peared at the head of the stairs, and a sleepy 
voice said: 

<^Why, child, what are you doing down 
there at this time of night? What was that 
noise?” 

Teddy lifted his round, excited face, and 
held up a warning finger. ^^Sh-sh-sh!” he 
said in a whisper; ^fit^s burglars! TheyVe 
taken the silver and made a mess of things 
down here. I thought I could scare them off 
without waking you up, but I got here too 
late. They’re going off now, I guess. I’ll go 
and see.” 

Cousin Ellie walked down to the first stair- 
landing, and spoke sternly. ^^Come up here 
this minute!” she commanded; and Teddy 
could not help smiling at the contrast of her 
extreme dignity with her airy costume. 
“Come up now, Teddy, please , she pleaded; 

23 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

‘‘they may come back any minute and shoot 
you. Oh, dear! if John were only home! 
What shall we do?” 

Teddy was about to speak reassuringly of 
his powers as a watch-dog, but at that min- 
ute his eyes, which had been uneasily notic- 
ing the doors and windows, caught sight of 
something in the back hall that made him 
take one jump toward it; then he gave a 
groan, and his excitement made him forget 
to lower his voice. 

“They’ve taken Mabel’s bicycle!” he said; 
“her brand-new birthday present, and left an 
old rattle-trap of a man’s wheel! The scoun- 
drels! The sneaks! I’ll be even with them! 
I’ll get that back, I will, if I go to land’s end 
to catch ’em! They sha’n’t have that wheel 
— no, they sha’n’t!” 

While he talked, Teddy was examining the 
substituted wheel and pushing it toward the 
door; and finally Cousin Ellie realized what 
he was going to do. Forgetting her fear, she 
fairly ran down-stairs to catch the youth and 
drag him, captive, up to safety; but she was 
24 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

not quick enough. He had darted into the 
dining-room and back. “They've gone!" he 
called out. “They won't have ten seconds' 
headway! I'll get 'em and their booty — see 
if I don't!" He seemed to be almost beside 
himself with excitement, and was outside 
the door and lost in the shadow of the elms 
before his cousin could reach him. 

As quick as a flash he was on the old wheel 
and away, scorching with main force down 
the carriage-road, and then out into the quiet 
street. Ahead of him, to the right, he saw, 
or thought he saw, two men on bicycles, and 
his excited fancy could almost see the gleam 
of silver in the bundles strapped to their 
wheels. On he went, faster and faster, with 
no thought of fear, his anger giving him 
double strength as he bent over the handle- 
bars and saw that he was gaining on the 
shapes ahead. The trees and buildings cast 
strange shadows across the road, and several 
times he was deceived by them into the 
thought that he was within arm's length of 
the thieves. Along the main street they 
3 25 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

went, and along went Teddy. He gave a 
furious spurt, coasted down the hill like a 
will-o’-the-wisp, came nearer and nearer to 
them; he could hear the whir of their ma- 
chines, and felt waves of hot exultation flash 
over him as he planned what to say when 
he should rush across their path and stop 
them. A dozen more revolutions would do 
it; then, with the suddenness of an earth- 
quake, a great form loomed up beside Teddy, 
a hand grasped his flying robe, a club was 
brandished in the air, and a rough voice 
called out: 

‘^Hold on! hold on! Off, and give an ac- 
count of yerself, ridin’ at this time o’ night 
widout a light!” 

Teddy made a wild struggle to free him- 
self and go on, but the grasp of his robe was 
too Arm to admit of a single motion, so he 
tumbled off his wheel and confronted the po- 
liceman, remembering then, for the first 
time, that he had no lantern. 

^^Let me go, I say! You must — you shall 
he exclaimed, hastily. ^‘Any law in the land 
26 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 
will protect me! There were thieves in our 
house that took my cousin’s wheel, and I’m 
going to catch them and get it. Hang a light! 
Let me go, or I’ll lose ’em!” 

Teddy was preparing to remount, but the 
policeman held his ground firmly. “iVo, sir.'” 
he said; ‘^not yet. Oi’m sorry, sir; indade Oi 
be; but law’s law, and Oi’m here to ketch 
those that goes ag’in it.” 

^^But I donH go against it!” Teddy was in 
a frenzy now, for the shadows ahead had dis- 
appeared around the bend of the road. ^T’d 
have lighted my lamp if I’d had time. I ain’t 
a sneak, and my father’s one of the Common 
Council. I know as much about law as you 
do, and I say you have a right to let me go. 
How much is the fine for riding without a 
light? Can’t you pay it for me in the morn- 
ing, and let me go now?” 

He put his hand in his pocket, not noticing 
that the man was watching him with grim 
amusement depicted on every feature of his 
face; and in a moment he realized that he 
was airily dressed in white, with a bath- 
27 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

wrapper as overcoat, and not a cent in his 
pocket had he! 

It was too much, even for an excited per- 
son, to see without a smile, and all at once 
the humor of the situation came over Teddy, 
and he burst out in a hearty laugh, in which 
the policeman joined him. say,’’ said 
Teddy, finally, ‘‘you must believe me, or else 
you’d take me two-forty to the insane asy- 
lum, for being out in this rig!” And then 
he said, ruefully: “Whatever can I do? I 
haven’t got a cent, as you can see. You’d 
better let me go. You’ve done enough mis- 
chief for one night’s work — spoiled my 
fun, and made my cousin lose her new 
wheel. I’ll send you the five dollars to-mor- 
row.” 

Teddy was supporting himself against his 
wheel and looking up anxiously at his burly 
companion. But as he did not answer in- 
stantly, Teddy went on: “W^ell, old Cerberus, 
what’ll you do? Think quick, for this is 
rather a breezy out-of-door costume!” And 
then, with a spasm of regret, he groaned: 

28 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

^^Oh, I say, this is hard luck! What are you 
going to do about it?” 

^‘There’s but one thing to do, sir;” the po- 
liceman, for all his amusement and interest 
in this strange case, was still firm, ^^ye’ll have 
to come wid me.” 

^ Where?” Teddy’s voice was eager; and 
the policeman answered, with a grin: 

^^Oh, just beyant the corner. They’ll put 
you up in foine shape till morning.” 

^Wou mean — in jail?” Teddy gasped it 
out as though the end of all things had 
come, and the policeman laughed once 
more. 

^^Call it a hotel,” he said, ^^an’ it’ll be more 
fit for the likes o’ youse, but I guess ye’ve 
got about the shape uv it!” 

At last the truth — the whole, bare, abso- 
lute truth — dawned on Teddy, and he was 
silent, dazed by the proportions which his ex- 
pedition had assumed. As meekly as possi- 
ble he followed his guide until they came in 
sight of the police station. Then he stopped 
short. 


29 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

I say,” he said, a fake. You 
wouldn’t lodge me there? Let me go, I say! 
Why, man, I went off like a crazy creature, 
and left my poor cousin to worry. Let me 
go!” 

But even as he spoke, they were ascending 
the stairs and passing through the long, 
silent hall. 

^^It’s no good frettin’,” remarked the po- 
liceman, cheerfully; ^daw’s law. The loidy’ll 
not have to be scairt long.” 

Teddy, really frightened now, and re- 
sisting at every step, was marshaled into an 
apartment to serve out his first term as pris- 
oner. He was surprised to find that the room 
was not half so bad as he had feared. It was 
clean, as was the cot-bed, and there was no 
evidence that he was a prisoner except that 
when he was left alone he heard the key turn 
in the lock from the outside. For a time, he 
just walked up and down, too much excited 
to attempt to sleep. He was calm enough 
to think, and he realized what a senseless 
thing he had undertaken, and how selfish he 
30 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

had been to leave the house with so little 
thought of his cousin’s fright. His remorse 
was keen, for Teddy’s heart was in the right 
place, and he conjured up all sorts of dread- 
ful things that might have happened through 
his thoughtlessness. For an hour he paced 
the room, ashamed and penitent; then he be- 
gan to feel utterly tired out, and, throwing 
himself on the bed, knew nothing more until 
it was broad daylight. 

It took some time for him to come to him- 
self, and become conscious of where he was 
and of what had happened; then, at the sight 
of his clothes, the truth came over him, and 
his one thought was to get away — to get 
some word to the Holcombes. At once he 
made inquiries as to how long he would be 
imprisoned; and when he found that it was 
only a matter of depositing the required fine, 
he immediately despatched a small boy to 
Sunnybrook with a note. That somewhat 
quieted the alarm there, but added to the 
curiosity about the runaway; for the note 
simply said: 


31 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

^^Dear Cousin Ellie: I am a jail-bird, and 
for the honor of the family, please send five 
dollars by bearer to get me out. Instead of 
catching the thieves, I got caught myself; 
that’s all the difference. Next time I’ll take 
a light. No — next time I won’t go at all. 

^Tolice-station. Penitently, 

^^Teddy.” 

It had been a weary, dreadful night at 
Sunnybrook. When Mrs. Holcombe had seen 
Teddy disappear through the door, and had 
not dared to go after him, she had awakened 
the girls, and they had all waited and 
watched through the remainder of the night, 
hoping each moment that he would come in. 
Though knowing his fearless impulsiveness, 
they could not believe that he would do so 
reckless a thing as to try to pursue the 
thieves. It was soon evident that the bur- 
glars had gone at once, after they had se- 
cured their booty; for not a sound broke the 
stillness in the house. The silver which had 
been taken from the sideboard was not espe- 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

cially valuable, and the wheel could be re- 
placed; so it was only Teddy about whom 
they worried. 

^^Crazy boy! How could he be so foolish? 
What could I say to his mother if anything 
should happen to him! What shall we do?” 
moaned Mrs. Holcombe over and over, as the 
hours wore on and still Teddy did not come. 

At last morning came, and with it the note, 
which was an unspeakable relief, but at the 
same time made the affair assume a most 
mysterious aspect. In jail? For what? 
While they were busily discussing the mat- 
ter, and at the same time clearing up the 
demolished dining-room, there was a whistle 
at the door, and in walked Teddy, wrapped 
in a huge ulster! 

“Jail-birds allowed here?” he queried. “I 
say, do you want to see the latest thing in 
clothes?” and, throwing back the ulster, he 
stood before the astonished girls in his cos- 
tume of the night before. 

It was very comical, his story of his flight; 
and his ridiculous costume gave such an air 
33 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

of reality to the whole that his listeners were 
convulsed with laughter. Now that it was 
over, Teddy saw the funny side of it all, and 
brought it out very vividly. Even Mrs. Hol- 
combe could not help laughing, but at the 
end of the story she spoke very severely. 
However, Teddy was so honestly penitent 
that she could not remain angry after his 
manly apology for the anxiety he had caused 
her. 

^^You see, I didn’t think about another 
thing but how broken-up Mabel would be 
about her wheel, and that’s the truth!” he 
said; and he added: ^Terhaps it might be a 
good thing if I got some clothes on that 
wouldn’t scare the natives, and then I don’t 
think I would object to breakfast. Cousin El- 
lie, now that you mention it.” 

^Tt will be ready as soon as you are, dear 
boy,” she said; ‘Ve had no thought of eating 
before.” And as he went out of the door she 
exclaimed, ^^You certainly have had a real 
adventure at last!” 

At the word Teddy turned, gave one big 
34 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

bound out into the room, and then stood star- 
ing at her until she said, ^^Why, what is the 
matter? I did not mean ” 

With that he made a rush, and hugged 
her until she cried out for release; then, the 
bath-wrapper floating in the breeze, he 
danced a war-dance which made everything 
in the room shake, and Anally stopped, 
breathless, in front of Helen, flapping his 
arms and crying excitedly: ^Where’s a pa- 
per and pencil! Tell me quick! Hooray! hoo- 
ray! ITl have that prize now, and no mis- 
take! And I never thought about it until this 
very minute! Change my clothes, and eat 
breakfast flrst? Indeed I won’t! Here! give 
me the pencil, and I’ll go up-stairs and do 
it by myself. An adventure? Well, I should 
think!” 

With half a dozen strides he cleared the 
stairs, and was about to vanish from sight 
when Helen called up: ^Teddy! Teddy! wait 
a minute! How about your luck now?” 

“Oh,” answered Teddy, smiling over the 
banisters, “it’s all right! The bother was, I 
35 


TEDDY BAIRD’S LUCK 

didn’t know it wore policeman’s clothes, or 
I’d have caught it long ago! Wait till I hear 
mother say, ^My son, I told you so!’ ” 

And he was not disappointed. Mrs. Baird 
did say it, not only when she heard the mar- 
velous tale, but also on the opening day of 
school, when Teddy, junior member of the 
Acorn Athletic Club, after receiving the con- 
gratulations of the boys, walked proudly 
home by her side. 

As for the silver and bicycle, they were 
finally recovered through the efforts of that 
burly policeman who had unconsciously 
won the title of ^^Teddy’s Luck.” 


36 


BETTY’S IDEA 


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BETTY’S IDEA 


It was Betty who had the idea. Then, of 
course, we worked it out together. I always 
helped her carry out her ideas, however dar- 
ing they were, and although they frequently 
got us both into trouble. 

You see, Betty is my first cousin, who lives 
way out West, but she had been spending 
the winter, 1848 it was — which is almost two 
years ago — with us, to go to our academy, 
for they had no good school at home. She 
and I were exactly alike — not in looks, for 
she had regular features and glossy brown 
hair, while I was snub-nosed, tow-headed, 
and not at all good-looking. But I mean we 
were alike in being fond of excitement, and 
in being able to think up interesting things 
39 


BETTY’S IDEA 


to do. I call them interesting, for they were 
intensely so to us, but mother never called 
them anything but foolish. 

Well, it was within a few days of the great 
town event of the year, the academy com- 
mencement, and we were all busy getting 
ready for it. Mother was finishing a frock 
for my elder sister, Harriet; a sweet black 
bombazine with cherry ribbons; father was 
helping the faculty prepare their annual re- 
ports, and Betty and I were practising our 
pieces. We were the only ones among the 
younger girls who were to take part in the 
exercises, and were as proud as peacocks. 
Betty was to sing ^^Auld Kobin Grey,” while 
I was to recite ^^LochiePs Warning,” and as 
we worked on them we were as happy as 
could be. I say as happy as could be, but 
that is not quite true, for there was one very 
sad thing in connection with the affair; 
which was, that while all our friends were 
to wear long frocks and hair coiled in their 
necks, we were to go just in our little-girl 
white nainsooks, with our hair in braids, al- 
40 


BETTY’S IDEA 

though we were nearly fifteen, and tall for 
our age. 

The longer we thought about it the harder 
it seemed, and we teased and coaxed, and 
even cried, but mother was firm. 

^‘You will be old soon enough,’’ she said, 
^^and then you will thank me for keeping you 
young as long as possible. In a year or two 
you shall do as you choose, but not yet.” 

As mother was not a person to be trified 
with when her mind was made up, we were 
forced to hold our peace after that, but we 
felt worse and worse about it as the day drew 
near. 

On Tuesday evening the late stage brought 
a letter to father from Mr. Alger, a rich 
client in Hadley, asking that mother and 
father spend Wednesday and Thursday 
nights at his home, for father to meet a cer- 
tain famous lawyer who was to dine there 
on Thursday, and discuss matters of grave 
importance. 

Now Thursday was the very night of the 
commencement. Father and mother would 
4 41 


BETTY’S IDEA 


be more than sorry to miss it; while sister 
Harriet, who had been visiting the Algers for 
a week and could not return until father 
and mother came, would be perfectly broken- 
hearted to lose all the fun of commencement, 
and to have had her new bombazine made for 
nothing. The Algers were quiet, elderly peo- 
ple, and sister had left all of her pretty party 
frocks at home. It would, indeed, be a sad 
disappointment to her not to come back to 
wear the new one, that had been finished 
while she was away. 

But for business reasons, father did not 
feel at liberty to decline the invitation, and 
he said that commencement must be given 
up. 

Mother began to get ready to take the first 
stage the next morning, which would reach 
Hadley in the afternoon. Betty and I were 
up very early, helping her as well as we 
could; and it was then — while she was laying 
out mother^s best pelisse on the bed — that 
Betty had the great idea. I noticed that her 
eyes grew very bright, and that she was very 
42 


BETTY’S IDEA 


meek all at once, and knew that something 
was happening. Betty always grew meek 
when she had an idea. 

But she did not say anything then, for we 
were all so busy. There was a flurry at the 
last, for father lost his umbrella, and had a 
hundred pieces of good advice to give us, 
while mother waved a tearful farewell from 
the stage window. Then Betty and I were 
mistresses of the house for a brief, sweet sea- 
son. 

As the stage vanished, Betty seized me 
around the waist, and danced me off on the 
grass, spinning me round and round until I 
was too dizzy to stand up, and down we both 
went on the ground, panting and hot. 

“Go on,” I gasped. “Tell it!” 

“Tell what?” Betty fanned herself with 
her handkerchief and looked importantly 
mysterious. 

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Of course I know 
there is something in your head.” 

“Well,” retorted Betty, “I hope so! I 
rather suppose there are some brains there!” 

43 


BETTY’S IDEA 

She knew perfectly well that I was wild 
with curiosity, and enjoyed her power over 
me. There is no knowing when I would have 
found out what I wanted to know, if I hadn’t 
sunk back, eyes closed, arms over my head, 
and said, indifferently: 

^^Oh, well; you needn’t think I care to hear 
your old secret! Keep it to yourself, if you 
choose. I’m going over to see Lucy very 
soon, anyway!” 

Lucy Grey was Betty’s deadly rival, and 
my ruse worked splendidly. In two minutes 
I had the idea, was sitting up, alive with in- 
terest, and was planning how to accomplish 
what we wished. 

^‘Do you suppose we oughtn’t to?” I asked, 
weakly, in a moment of quiet reflection. But 
Betty spoke with quick decision: 

^^Ought not to? Why, you silly little 
chicken-hearted thing, you! Of course we 
ought, if we want to! What’s to hinder? 
They will just hang there if we don’t; I’m 
sure we won’t hurt them. I believe you’re 
afraid!” 


44 


BETTY’S IDEA 

That stung me. not!” I said stoutly. 

‘T’m just as brave as you are! Come on. Let’s 
go and try them on.” 

So up-stairs we went, to Harriet’s room; 
opened the wardrobe door, and gave a sigh 
of anticipation as the rows of pretty frocks 
hung before us. 

^‘Aren’t they lovely!” I exclaimed. think 
it’s perfectly grand to be grown up!” 

^^So do I,” assented Betty. ^^And the next 
best thing is to make believe you are. Now, 
which one do you choose?” 

I put my hand on one, then decided that 
I preferred another, and finally was so un- 
certain that I had to lay them out in a row 
on the bed to look them over again and again. 
Betty at once chose a blue brocade with 
white pipings, and at last I decided on the 
new one, which had only been finished the 
day before. All the others were quite 
old. 

^^Now, let’s try them on, with our hair fixed 
right,” I suggested, and in a short time two 
very much grown-up young women had taken 
45 


BETTY’S IDEA 


our places in the room, and stood bowing, 
and smiling, and exchanging compliments. 
The blue and white was very becoming to 
Betty; she looked more stately and imposing 
in it than Harriet. The skirt was a little too 
short for her, but she pinned it down, and 
the bodice covered the gap. I did her hair 
in puffs, and when she had added patches 
to her chin and forehead, she was truly a 
masterpiece of art. Then she did my hair, 
which is very fuzzy, in little fluffs and curls 
up on the tip-top of my head; and when I got 
into the black frock, with its round, low neck, 
cherry bows, and tiny puffed sleeves, the fat 
whiteness of my arms and neck so dazzled 
us both that we were enchanted; and for the 
first time I felt that — even if I was homely — 
I had some good points. 

We promenaded and giggled and bowed 
and scraped until we saw Mabel Ethridge 
and the Hunter boys coming up the front 
path, when we scrambled out of our finery 
as fast as ever we could, and went down to 
receive them. We asked our callers to sup- 
46 


BETTY’S IDEA 

per, making them quite envious of our fun 
as housekeepers. And after that we had 
company to every meal, but we never 
breathed a word about our plan. Still, if 
Thursday had not been so very near, I think 
we should have had to confide it to some one, 
so great was our excitement. 

All day Thursday we were at the school- 
house, helping decorate it with vines and 
flags, and had great fun. To be sure, Lucy 
would scarcely speak to me, she was so jeal- 
ous because I had a secret with Betty, but I 
pretended not to notice it. I knew I could 
make it all right with her later. 

We had a very early supper, for the exer« 
cises were to begin at seven o^clock, and as 
soon as we had swallowed a few mouthfuls, 
we ran up to get ready, taking care to lock 
our door before we began. It took a long 
time to dress, for we had to help each other, 
and were so excited that everything got lost, 
and our hands seemed to refuse to do what 
they ought. But when the carryall drove up, 
we were all ready, standing looking at each 
47 


BETTY’S IDEA 

other in silent admiration. Finally Betty ex- 
claimed, ^^You look perfectly beautiful!’’ 

^‘So do you,” I added; then I darted into 
Harriet’s room, with a sudden inspiration, 
and came back with her coral necklace. I 
clasped it around my neck, and Betty was 
fairly rapturous. 

^^The very thing!” she said. “Now you are 
perfect! Come, or we will be late.” 

Somehow, as we drove, we began to feel 
very queerly. We laughed and talked very 
fast, but my heart beat furiously, particu- 
larly after we came in sight of the building 
and saw all the people streaming up the 
walk. 

“Oh, Betty!” I cried, squeezing her hand, 
“won’t it be just perfect if Harriet’s friends 
treat us as if we were grown up, and talk, 
and ask us to dance!” 

“Won’t it!” said Betty, ecstatically. “0/ 
course they will. Clothes make all the differ- 
ence in the world.” 

We went in at the side entrance, and found 
the girls in an eager group, examining each 
48 


BETTY’S IDEA 

other, and giving finishing touches to sashes 
and hair, while others were looking through 
the cracks in the curtain at the crowded au- 
dience-room, where there was a buzz of con- 
versation going on. 

Instead of leaving our capes in the class- 
room, Betty and I kept them on while we 
talked to the girls, for we wanted to make 
a complete sensation at the last moment. 

^^My! how sweet your hair looks!’’ ex- 
claimed Lucy. “You never had it that way 
before. It’s like an old painting. I thought 
you weren’t allowed to wear it up. Did you 
do it for each other? Come; let’s see your 
frocks.” 

Just then, luckily, Mr. Kennedy called me 
to his study, and Betty was left to face the 
flood of questions, which she was much bet- 
ter able to evade than I. 

Mr. Kennedy wanted to give me a last sug- 
gestion about my piece, and before he had 
finished, the gong summoned us to take our 
places on the platform. 

I went hastily back to the cloak-room, 
49 


BETTY’S IDEA 


where no one was left except Betty, who was 
waiting for me. For a moment we looked 
at each other, then Betty tossed her head 
and marched off, fluttering her fan, and look- 
ing for all the world like the queen of Sheba. 
I slowly followed, adjusting my very full 
skirts, and looking lovingly at my slippers, 
with their perilously high heels, as together 
we swept on to the stage and took our places. 

Of course, there was no chance for any one 
to speak to us, but the girls nudged each 
other, and the boys just stared as hard as 
they could, while Mr. Kennedy put up his 
glasses with a funny little quizzical smile. I 
saw him. 

The exercises went on. There were dia- 
logues and speeches and essays, then came 
Betty’s turn to sing. She looked as pretty 
as a star, her eyes were so bright, and I wish 
you had seen her sweep to the front of the 
stage and swing her frock into place as she 
bowed, majestically. The costume seemed to 
inspire her, and she sang so well that she 
had to give two encores, which made me as 
50 


BETTY’S IDEA 

proud as could be. While she sang, I looked 
at the audience, and saw her friends ex- 
changing glances of surprise and amuse- 
ment, for she was not the Betty whom they 
knew. You see, although the other girls 
had on long frocks, as I said, still none of 
them had such effective costumes as ours, 
and people who were acquainted with 
mother were rather bewildered. 

When Betty finished, there was loud ap- 
plause; and, under cover of it, some of the 
girls asked me questions, but I was so much 
taken up with thinking of my piece, that I 
just nodded; and while I w^as saying some of 
the verses over to myself, my name was 
called. 

Of course, there was but one thing to do; 
and of course I did it. I stood up, advanced 
and bowed, in as exact an imitation of Betty 
as my fright would allow. My hands trem- 
bled so much that I had to clasp them to keep 
it from showing, and I wondered how I was 
ever going to be able to gesture. But at last 
I found my voice, and began, and then all 
51 


BETTY'S IDEA 

fear vanished. I dearly loved to recite, and 
at the sound of my voice in the sonorous old 
words of Campbell’s, I forgot the many up- 
turned faces — forgot all but the spirit of my 
piece. 

*‘Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, 
Behold where he flies on his desolate path I 
Now in darkness and billows he sweeps from my sight: 
Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight! 

’Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ; 
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.” 

With proper modulations of grief and de- 
spair, I was rolling out the lines, when sud- 
denly I forgot — words — gestures — fun — au- 
dience — and all. Mother and father were 
being shown down the aisle to front seats! 

My head grew hot and light, my hands 
colder and colder, my tongue glued itself to 
the roof of my mouth, and my only earthly 
wish was for a white muslin frock and hair 
in braids! 

But there I was, black bombazine, coral 
necklace, mitts, slippers, and all; and there 
they were, looking at me! They did not show 
any surprise, after one quick glance at each 
52 


BETTY’S IDEA 


other, but just sat and looked, and looked, 
and looked, until they looked all the brains 
out of my head! 

There was a. hush, while people waited for 
me to go on, and several voices behind 
prompted me: 

“ Rise, risel ye — Rise, rise! ye — 

Rise, rise! ye wild ” 

It was no use! Mother’s eyes were bewitch- 
ing me! With one despairing gesture, I fled 
from the stage, and Mr. Kennedy after me! 

There was a murmur of pity through the 
audience for my fright; then, as nothing that 
Mr. Kennedy said made any impression on 
me, he was obliged to continue the exercises 
as if nothing had happened. 

For a while I curled down in the cloak- 
room and buried my face in a pile of wraps, 
while hot waves of humiliation swept over 
me. That I, Doris Hastings, who was con- 
sidered the best elocution scholar in the 
school, should have done such a thing! Lucy 
and the boys would say — oh, dear! what 
53 


BETTY^S IDEA 

would they say! It was just too dreadful to 
think about! Looking down, I saw the dress, 
and I hated it, for it was what had humiliated 
me. I wished I had never seen the old thing. 
That made me think of Harriet. Why wasn’t 
she there, too, to see my downfall? Where 
was she? Was she sitting at home alone, 
because she had no new frock to wear? I 
didn’t wait a minute after this occurred to 
me. Putting on my cape, I stole from the 
building. It was an unusually dark night, 
and the road, though a short one, was lone- 
some, winding through woods, and a stretch 
where there were no houses. There were 
queer shadows over the road and strange 
noises on all sides, but I kept up my courage 
until I heard real footsteps come behind me, 
and a man’s quick breathing close beside me. 
I was so frightened that my feet almost re- 
fused to move a step farther, but a thrill 
of relief shot over me at the sound of a fa- 
miliar voice. 

“Oh, Miss Doris — Miss Doris!” called Mr. 
Hunt, one of Harriet’s particular friends; 

54 


BETTY’S IDEA 


wait a minute! Fve been trying to catch 
up to you ever since you started. You go 
like a hare. You ought not to be alone on 
this road. Where are you going?’’ 

^^Home,” I answered, laconically; then, 
feeling myself ungracious, I added: ^^Thank 
you ever so much for catching up with me. 
I was scared to pieces.” 

We walked on together; I, at so swift a 
pace that my escort had hard work to keep 
up with me. I did not feel like talking, and 
he humored my mood. When we came in 
sight of the home-lights I threw him a crumb 
of consolation for his hasty walk: ^^Harriet 
is home,” I announced. ^‘Do make her go 
back to the dance with you, if you can.” 

He looked very much pleased, but aston- 
ished. ^Why, I thought she was in Hadley,” 
he exclaimed. 

^^She was,” I said, curtly; ^^but she came 
back to-night. I suppose she didn’t come 
to commencement because I had on her new 
frock, made on purpose for her to wear. I 
guess she is pretty mad, and I wish you 
55 


BETTY’S IDEA 

would stand up for me if I get my head taken 

ofer 

A smile broke over Mr. Hunt’s face, but 
he answered, solemnly, ^^Miss Doris, I will be 
your champion. Any one who saw you in 
your borrowed plumes could not help being.” 

I was not quite sure whether this was a 
compliment or not, and was just going to ask 
him, when we found ourselves at the house, 
and in a moment I was in the hall calling 
Harriet. 

At the sound of my voice she came from 
the sitting-room, and stared at us both in se- 
vere surprise. 

^Well, Doris!” she said; “you see we came 
back after all. Mrs. Alger was sick. What 
do you want? I should not think you would 
care to ask any favors of me to-night!” 

Her manner was as calmly severe as a 
tragedy queen, and I might have been rather 
overcome by it if Mr. Hunt had not seemed 
so cheerful, as he answered for me: 

“Miss Harriet, I am Miss Doris’s defender 
against a cruel sister’s wrath! If you will 
56 


BETTY’S IDEA 


invite me to sit down, I will try to melt your 
hard heart with my tale!” 

Here I thought he might be going to talk 
too long, so I broke in. ^^That’s all right,” I 
said. “I mean it’s all wrong. But, anyhow, 
there is nothing to bother about to-night. 
You’re to go back to the dance, Harriet; and 
do hurry, or you’ll miss the best of the fun. 
I hate your old finery, and trying to be some- 
body else is bad luck. I’ll lay the frock on 
your bed, and if you choose to wear it you 
can. Anyhow, you’re to go back — Mr. Hunt 
says so!” 

The suspicion of a smile curved the cor- 
ners of my sister’s lips, and spoiled her dig- 
nified expression as she glanced at Mr. Hunt. 

^^Oh!” she said; ^^Mr. Hunt says so, does 
he? Very well, Doris, you have done your 
part. Now it remains for Mr. Hunt to make 
his explanation!” 

Her cheeks were very red, and she was as 
pretty as a picture when she led the way to 
the sitting-room. Mr. Hunt followed her so 
meekly that I felt rather ashamed of him; 

5 57 


BETTY’S IDEA 

he had seemed so brave when he wasn’t fa- 
cing danger; now he was quite different. 

Feeling rather left out, as her invitation 
did not seem to include me, I was going up- 
stairs, when my cape fell off; and, as Harriet 
glanced back, I stood revealed in my gran- 
deur — black mitts, patches, coral necklace, 
curls, and all! 

She burst out laughing. ^^You ridiculous, 
crazy child!” she exclaimed; never saw 
anything more perfectly absurd. What did 
mother and father say?” 

But I had gathered my cape about me and 
fled, purple with discomfiture, wounded in 
my pride at having been laughed at. As I 
fled, I heard them settle down in the sitting- 
room and begin to talk, and it sounded as if 
Mr. Hunt was doing all he could for me, he 
talked so fast. 

Meanwhile, I stopped thinking any more 
about them, having so many bothers of my 
own. They might go or stay, as they chose. 
It was nothing to me. I had done my part 
when the precious frock lay, uninjured, ready 
58 


BETTY’S IDEA 


for sister to put on, and it was not many 
minutes before I was in bed and think- 
ing busily in the darkened room. But 
the process was neither quieting nor sooth- 
ing, and I could not bear it. Then I had an 
idea. It wasn’t as brilliant as Betty’s, but 
still it was an idea, and I carried it out im- 
mediately. 

Hurrying into my old white muslin and 
blue ribbons, I scarcely gave myself a single 
look in the glass before my cape was on 
again, and I stole out of the back door, re- 
tracing my steps over the dark, lonesome 
road to the schoolhouse, but so excited that 
I did not hear or fear anything. I think I 
must have looked flushed and triumphant 
when I marched into that room again, es- 
corted by Mr. Kennedy, while the guests 
were eating supper; and my! how they 
stared, as I stood in haughty dignity, look- 
ing neither to the right nor the left, but over 
their heads, while he announced that he had 
the pleasure of again introducing Miss Doris 
Hastings, who would recite ^^Lochiel’s Warn- 
59 


BETTY’S IDEA 


ing!’’ There were no msistakes or break- 
downs this time. The sonorous phrases 
fairly rolled off my lips, and I had no knowl- 
edge of an audience, or of fear, or even of 
applause, which they say was fairly deafen- 
ing when I finished. The people were so 
polite that I had to repeat the piece — and 
then say two other poems — before they 
would let me sit down and have my refresh- 
ments. By that time the boys were five 
deep around me; and I can tell you what, I 
had my choice of partners for the rest of 
the evening! But I was so freezingly re- 
served on the subject of my downfall and 
reappearance, that no one dared to question 
me. 

Betty avoided my eye, and I knew there 
was going to be trouble later. But I didn’t 
let that interfere with my enjoyment, and 
danced and danced and danced; and when, 
in passing me, she tossed her head, I tossed 
mine, too! 

I was much pleased with mother and 
father, they were so very polite, indeed! It 
60 


BETTY’S IDEA 


is wonderful how adaptable older people are 
sometimes, when your own friends are just 
rude! Betty was distinctly rude. She never 
spoke a single word all the way home, and 
even after we went up to our room together 
there was dead silence. She glared at me, 
mad as she could be, and I glared at her, mad 
as I could be; then, all of a sudden, the funny 
side of the situation came over us both, and 
we laughed until we were perfectly ex- 
hausted. And by the time the first glimmer 
of dawn was coming in the windows, we had 
talked it all over. Then, just as I was drop- 
ping off to sleep, Betty nudged me. ^Wait 
a second,” she said. ^What do you think? 
I got a great spot on the front breadth of 
that brocade! IsnT it dreadful? I don’t dare 
think what Harriet will say! And, Doris, 
do you know, I don’t believe clothes make 
so much matter, after all, unless you belong 
to them. Do you? Then, I suppose, they 
do make a difference.” 

^TOne did,” I answered, sleepily. think 
it must depend on your feelings,” with which 
61 


BETTY’S IDEA 


sage remark I wandered off into dreamland, 
clad in the most remarkable of costumes, 
which were subject to hourly change during 
the night. 

The most surprising thing was Harrietts 
behavior about the affair. When we went 
down to breakfast the next morning, trem- 
bling in our shoes, there she was, smiling as 
serenely as possible, and positively eager to 
make herself agreeable. Betty and I ex- 
changed glances, but tried to take it as a 
matter of course; and Betty at once told her 
the worst, before her mood should have time 
to change. She only laughed, and said it 
didnT make a bit of difference, that the blue 
frock was an old one, and the spot would 
come out. Then we were utterly paralyzed 
with astonishment, from which we have 
never yet recovered. 

As to the black bombazine, Harriet laid 
it away in lavender, and has never had it on 
since. I thought at first it was because she 
didnT want to wear it after me, but I must 
have been mistaken, for I heard her tell Mr. 

62 


BETTY’S IDEA 


Hunt only a few nights ago that it was pre- 
cious to her because it reminded her of the 
happiest night of her life. I am glad we 
gave her so much pleasure without expect- 
ing to, but I am sure I don’t see how. Do 
you? 


63 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 


^^COME on, sis; we’re waiting for you!” 

^Well, you can wait, then!” 

^^Say, aren’t you going, honest Injun?” 

“I’ve said I wasn’t, once.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I don’t choose to; that’s why.” 

“Are you sick?” 

“No.” 

“Mad?” 

“No.” 

“Well, what ails you, then? It’ll be the 
jolliest affair of the season. We won’t have 
another such crust this winter. Come 
along!” 

“Stop bothering me! When I say I’m not 
going, I mean it. I hate sleighing. It’s just 
getting frozen and playing you like it. I’ve 
said I wouldn’t go, and I won’t — so there!” 

67 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

Teddy was on one side of the keyhole of 
Mardie’s door, and she was on the other; and 
while they carried on this pleasant little con- 
versation the big four-horse sleigh drew up 
in front of the house, and the twenty young 
people who were going off in it were waiting 
impatiently below, all bundled up like polar 
bears. 

^Ts she going?’’ they asked, eagerly, as 
Teddy came slowly down the stairs; but he 
shook his head. 

^^Doesn’t want to. Come on; let’s be off,” 
adding, in a lower tone, to his brother Harry, 
as they filed out to the sleigh, ^‘My, but she’s 
cross! Grosser than two sticks! I wonder 
why she acts so, anyway. She spoils all our 
fun.” 

Ted’s words were only too true, Mardie 
was inexcusably cross, and for several 
months had added little to the family com- 
fort or pleasure. She had always been the 
odd one in the family, dreamy and artistic 
in temperament, while Ted, Harry, and Ethel 
were remarkable only for splendid health 
68 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 
and fine spirits. Mardie liked to curl up in 
a chair and spend an afternoon wandering in 
enchanted lands with Hawthorne or Dickens 
or Scott, better than going skating; and pre- 
ferred sunsets to buckwheat cakes. In these 
ways she differed from the others, showing 
also a marked taste for writing; but up to 
the time when Miss Travers, society woman 
and writer as well, went to board in Den- 
field, Mardie was contented with her simple 
country life and as merry as the others, de- 
spite the necessary economy which the fam- 
ily of a minister in a small country parish 
must practise. 

But from the day when Miss Travers fell in 
love with the girPs fresh beauty and artistic 
temperament, and took her for an intimate 
friend, Mardie was as one bewitched. The 
friendship of a woman of the world, so much 
older than herself, fiattered the girl to such 
an extent that she began to feel she must be 
a very rare person indeed, and wholly unap- 
preciated by her family, who seemed to think 
their own tastes and interests as important 
69 


MARDIE’S "EXPERIENCE 

as hers; and her feeling of superiority was in- 
creased when, at Miss Traverses suggestion, 
she sent one of her stories to an editor, who 
by some lucky chance promptly accepted it. 

That was conclusive. It proved to Mardie 
that she had a destiny beside which all other 
work and pleasure paled. The praise of Miss 
Travers, and her advice to go on working un- 
til some day she should wake to find her- 
self famous, dazzled Mardie and intoxicated 
her. She wrote, she read, she dreamed, neg- 
lecting every duty and scorning her mother’s 
quiet counsel to go slowly. Of course, the 
family were all delighted with her success, 
but that did not satisfy Mardie. She took 
it as a matter of course that they should 
praise her, acting as if she had done the fam- 
ily a great honor by being a member of it, and 
every lapse on their part into interest in any- 
thing else besides her work and her career 
was resented. 

Mrs. Humphreys, distressed at Mardie’s 
sudden intimacy with the stranger, for it 
seemed to be spoiling her disposition, decided 
70 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 
to go to Miss Travers and frankly tell her 
of the influence she was exerting over Mar- 
die; but, on the very day when she made this 
resolve, a cablegram summoned Miss Trav- 
ers abroad. With time for only a hurried 
farewell to her favorite, she went away, ut- 
terly unsuspicious of the mischief she had 
wrought in the Humphreys family. 

After that Mardie was more trying to live 
with than ever. No one pleased her, every- 
thing annoyed her. She scorned old compan- 
ions and quoted Miss Travers so frequently 
that the boys did not hesitate to say ^^they 
wished that woman had been drowned be- 
fore she was born.” 

Mardie began to write more ambitious sto- 
ries, with complicated plots, in which titled 
foreigners, statesmen, and ^^society queens” 
played a prominent part; and then she sent 
them to magazines and papers, and when 
they were “returned with thanks” she 
moped, remaining in such a mournful frame 
of mind that it cast a gloom over the house- 
hold. 


71 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

^^James, I am firmly decided to accept 
Cousin Harrietts offer/’ Mrs. Humphreys 
said to her husband on the day of the sleigh- 
ing party, and while Mardie was still shut in 
her room. ^^It will be the best thing in the 
world for her; and I want you to repeat to 
her what I shall say, too — that whatever ex- 
penses she incurs, you will expect her to re- 
pay you from the money she earns.” 

An amused smile lighted up Mr. Hum- 
phreys’s face, and he was about to speak, but 
his wife interrupted him. ^‘Yes, dear, I know 
what you would say; but trust me, I under- 
stand what I am doing. I shall go and tell 
her now.” 

Up-stairs in Mardie’s room the bright win- 
ter sun was streaming through the windows, 
the fire was crackling merrily, and the ca- 
nary was chirping a happy refrain; but Mar- 
die was deaf and blind to everything but her- 
self. For a time she lay on the sofa, reading; 
then, throwing down her book, she went to 
the window and listlessly looked out at the 
snow-drifts piled on both sides of the broad 
72 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

street — drifts so high that fence-rails were 
lost to sight, and from end to end the street 
had almost the effect of a tunnel through the 
snow, the white houses bordering it seeming 
but drifts themselves. 

^^Stupid old hole!’’ she exclaimed to her- 
self, and then listened, as there came a knock 
at the door. No answer. Mardie was not in 
a humor to respond. A second knock, a 
third; then, without waiting longer, Mrs. 
Humphreys walked in and seated herself on 
the end of the lounge, while Mardie still 
gazed intently out of the window. 

Dead silence. Suddenly Mardie turned 
and faced her mother. 

^^Well?” she asked, elevating her eye- 
brows. ‘What is it?” 

“Margaret!” Gentle Mrs. Humphreys sel- 
dom used that name, and whenever she did 
Mardie knew that she was in danger of re- 
proof. “Margaret, I wish to have a serious 

conversation with you. I ” 

“For pity’s sake, don’t!” interrupted Mar- 
die, hurriedly. “Don’t, mama; it won’t do 
any good.” 


73 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

child, you are making us very unhappy 
by your conduct; do you know it?’’ 

^‘Know it?” echoed Mardie. know that 
/ am the unhappy one, and I should think 
you would pity me instead of blaming me. 
I think you might see how dreadful it is for 
me to be buried here, with no advantages, 
and no society, and no anything. I might as 
well have no talent, for all I can do with it. 
Can’t go to college; can’t travel; can’t see 
any life except in this old place, where there 
are a lot of stupid people who know only 
about crops and their neighbors’ business. 
If I could only visit, even, in a city, it would 
be better than nothing. It is wrong, it is 
dreadful, it is wicked — indeed it is! I could 
write fine stories, and make ever so much 
money, if any one would help me. I know 
I could. You can’t understand how I feel, 
because you are contented here. What can 
I do? No one wants to read about a place 
like this. Of course my stories are returned, 
and I suppose they always will be.” 

Mrs. Humphreys had listened in absolute 
74 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

silence to this tirade, and she waited until 
Mardie had angrily flung herself into a chair, 
and the echo of her last words had died away. 
Then she spoke, sternly and with decision, 
and. looked fixedly into the girl’s flushed 
face: 

^^You need not worry any more,” she said. 
^Tt is a pity you wasted so many words. I 
came to tell you that you are to go to Cousin 
Harriet’s, in New York, for the rest of the 
winter. There you will have regular hours 
for study and work, and a chance to see some 
people fin society.’ Your expenses you will, 
of course,, repay to papa from the money you 
earn. You must improve this opportunity^ 
for unless you can entirely support yourself, 
you will eventually have to come back to this 
^old place’ and the stupid people in it. You 
are to go next week.” 

Mardie’s mouth and eyes opened wider and 
wider while her mother was speaking; and 
from utter astonishment she was silent, try- 
ing to realize the greatness of her good for- 
tune. 


75 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

^^Oh-h-h!” she gasped at length. am? 
Oh, how perfectly heavenly! It is too good 
to be true, you blessed, darling mother T’ 

But Mrs. Humphreys evaded the caress 
that Mardie offered. ^‘It is too late for that, 
Mardie,’’ she said, quietly. ‘^Any one can be 
pleasant when she has what she wants.” 

There was severe reproof in her words, but 
Mardie was too excited even to notice it. 
Clasping her arms around her knees and 
rocking backward and forward, she repeated 
ecstatically: 

‘‘Now I shall do something. Oh, it is too 
good to be true!” 

But it really was true, as Mardie realized 
on the following Wednesday, when she found 
herself alone, a stranger in a great, bustling, 
noisy city, being driven to the house that 
was to be her home for some time to come. 

Cousin Harriet’s house, with its luxurious 
appointments, her maids, and men-servants, 
the pretty daughter, a ddbutante of that sea- 
son, the novel sights and sounds of the city, 
were all a revelation to Mardie. 

76 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 


What a bewildering, complex life it was 
that she had come to study! 

This was her thought on the morning after 
her arrival, as she lay listening to the rattle 
and rumble in the streets, and the far-off 
echo of trains and whistles in the distance; 
and then she sighed, as though, despite the 
daintiness of her surroundings, things were 
not exactly as she had expected. 

To tell the truth, her arrival in the city 
had not made quite the stir she had counted 
on. She had rather expected to be received 
with an ovation, for when her story was pub- 
lished Oousin Harriet had written praising 
her cleverness, and Mardie had felt that her 
arrival would be an event. But she found 
that guests in the city were a matter of 
course, and talent and brilliancy as well. On 
that first bewildering night she felt, with a 
sinking at heart, that every one was clever, 
and possibly more so than herself. This gave 
her an unpleasant feeling of insignificance, 
as did the words which accompanied her 
hearty welcome — “Your mother’s daughter 
77 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

is welcome, dear; she is a wonderful woman,’’ 
which sentiment she heard repeated on all 
sides. It annoyed Mardie greatly that she 
should have come to the city to be received 
cordially because of the merits of one of her 
family, instead of for her own sake. 

Cousin Harriet gave over to her a small 
fourth-story room, in which she could write 
and study unmolested. 

^‘You must make yourself as much at home 
as if you were my daughter, dear,” she said. 
“Eloise and I are busy persons, and we shall 
have to accept many invitations in which you 
are not included; but I know you will not 
mind, since you will be so absorbed in your 
scribbling” (scribbling, indeed!), ‘Vill you?” 

And to this Mardie answered, with a con- 
fident toss of her head, indeed, dear 

Cousin Harriet; not in the least. My work 
will be all-absorbing. I came to write about 
people, not to be amused. I intend to be the 
family bread-winner.” She was, neverthe- 
less, a bit lonely; for the busy world around 
her went on as though she were not in it, 
78 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

and few who came to the house knew, or 
cared to know, of her literary aspirations. 
Her cousins were kindness itself to her, and 
she was taken to places of amusement and to 
see the sights as often as she could be per- 
suaded to condescend to such trifles; but 
that was not often. 

Once or twice her cousin remonstrated 
with her. “You will be old before your time, 
Mardie, if you shut yourself up so persist- 
ently,’’ she urged. “How can you expect to 
write about the world if you never take time 
to see it?” 

But Mardie answered, patronizingly, “That 
shows that you have never tried writing, 
Cousin Harriet. Writers have to lead a very 
different life from society people. They 
don’t really need to see things; all they need 
is the ^atmosphere,’ you know.” 

“Oh!” said Cousin Harriet, in an amused 
voice; and the subject was not mentioned 
again, nor were any more suggestions made 
to Mardie concerning her use of time; and 
she followed the dictates of her judgment 
79 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

without a comment from any one. Strange 
to say, however, this was more annoying to 
her than advice had been, and she was thor- 
oughly miserable from “lack of apprecia- 
tion,” as she mentally called it. 

The longed-for material was at her hand. 
She saw brilliant men and women constantly, 
as well as Eloise’s gay young friends, who 
were always coming and going with the 
latest bit of society news or humor. She 
breathed a genuine city atmosphere, where 
life was a mad rush, where conversation 
flashed with repartee and jest, and where 
every moment of day and night was utilized 
to best advantage. And yet she could not 
write! The letters from home were short and 
told little news, but each one repeated the 
question, “What have you published? How 
much are you making?” and as weeks went 
by the question became more and more hu- 
miliating to Mardie, and more and more often 
the words came to her mind, “Your expenses 
you will, of course, repay to papa from your 
earnings;” and at last, in despair, she made 
80 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

herself write, hastily putting on paper what- 
ever came to her mind. She wrote stories, 
sketches, verses — about the city, its streets, 
its shops, its people. She used the society 
personages about her for heroes and hero- 
ines; working herself up at last to a degree 
of her old feeling of satisfaction in herself 
and contempt for the rest of the world. 

Then, when she had quite a variety of 
work ready, she sent it out to several maga- 
zines, and waited expectantly for the harvest 
of checks, so sure of success that she even 
counted up what she would be likely to make, 
and indulged in several extravagances; and 
then, one by one, every poem and sketch and 
story was returned with a printed formula 
of polite regret! Over and over she sent 
them out, with genuine courage, and tried 
not to wince when the long, fat envelopes 
promptly came back. 

For the sake of criticism, finally, she read 
some manuscripts to Eloise; but her cousin 
was always in a hurry, and danced away de- 
claring them to be ^^perfectly lovely,’’ and 
81 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

Mardie gained nothing from her. Cousin 
Harriet hated to be read to, and would not 
take the time to decipher a page of Mardie^s 
illegible writing; so whom to ask for help, 
the girl did not know. She began to be less 
sure of herself, to feel that perhaps there 
was something — some minor detail, of course 
— that might make her work salable, if she 
only knew what was needed. At times it 
suggested itself to her that perhaps she had 
mistaken her career, although she never con- 
fessed this weakness to any one. 

How could she bear to go back to “stupid 
Denfield,^’ and confess that she had had op- 
portunities and had not been able to use 
them; had seen the world and yet had not 
become famous? She felt that she would not 
dare to face her mother with the record of 
not having earned a cent. What should she 
do? 

At last, one afternoon, acting on a sudden 
impulse, she determined to go to an editor — 
a man for whom she had the greatest rever- 
ence as critic and successful writer as well — 
82 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

and ask his judgment on her work. Possibly, 
in the amount of material presented for 
reading, her articles had been overlooked, 
and he would accept them after a personal 
interview. So, with a bundle of manuscripts 
in her muff, and more hope in her heart than 
she would have had if she had known the 
opinion of the gentleman regarding young 
writers who persisted in interviewing him, 
she started out. Fortunately for her, she 
ran across him in the hall of his building, and 
inquired of him in which of the many rooms 
she would find the editor. As it happened, 
it was a time when he was not very busy; he 
was in one of his blandest moods, and her 
fresh young face appealed to him; so he ad- 
mitted his identity, and ushered her into his 
office. 

Smiling rather grimly, he asked her er- 
rand, mentally exclaiming, ^^Hope it isn’t 
poetry! The poetical ones are the worst!” 
In a shaky voice she told him of her work, 
and of her disappointments, and that she 
was sure it was the fault of the public, and 
83 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

not of her writing; however, she would be 
very grateful if he would read one of her 
stories while she waited, and give his opinion 
of it. She amused and interested him, and 
he was rather curious to see her work; so, 
bowing assent, he took her proffered manu- 
script and withdrew to a chair by the win- 
dow, and began to read very rapidly, while 
Mardie occupied herself with picturing his 
rapturous praise and her cool reception of 
it, when he should have finished. Presently, 
looking over the top of his glasses, he de- 
manded: 

^^Have you any others with you?” And 
with a hand that trembled, in spite of her 
effort to seem calm and collected, she handed 
him the other sketches she had with her, and 
again he relapsed into silence. 

At last, just as she had decided that he 
must be asleep — he was so quiet — he rose, 
and going over to a desk, took from it a vol- 
ume, and then took a chair nearer to her, 
clearing his throat as he handed her back 
her manuscripts. 


84 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

young friend/’ he said, ^^can you bear 
the truth?” 

Mardie blushed and stammered, and finally 
said that she supposed she could, and won- 
dered what was coming next. 

^Well, then,” he said, ^^here it is. These 
stories are absolutely useless from a profes- 
sional standpoint. They’re not genuine. 
There isn’t any perspective in them. To 
write about any side of life, you’ve first got 
to live it, hard and fast, and feel it to your 
very heart’s core; or else you must have a 
creative imagination, which only one person 
in ten thousand has. My advice to you is to 
throw these things away, and begin again. 
You express yourself well, but, somehow, 
you’ve got hold of the wrong end of your art. 
Almost any one can express himself clearly, 
if he takes pains; but, you see, that doesn’t 
make a writer. All this stuff — pardon my 
brutality — about the conventional side of 
life has been written threadbare, and every 
editor is sick to death of it. In fact, it won’t 
sell. The man who succeeds in literature 
85 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

nowadays has got to be willing to take time 
and probe below the surface of human na- 
ture, to love ordinary human beings — every- 
day mortals, mind you, not dukes and duch- 
esses — enough to discover in them material 
for all the love-stories and heroic poems ever 
written. Now, here’s a book just published” 
— glancing at the volume in his hand — ^^that 
is sure to live, and make its author famous. 
The woman lived with her characters and for 
them, until she understood just how their 
natures must work themselves out to be con- 
sistent with the human soul. Then, after she 
had digested her knowledge and got her per- 
spective, she wrote their lives out in the sim- 
plest English; and she is going to reach the 
heart of the public, unless I am very much 
mistaken. Get the mainspring in order, and 
the watch will go — and, by the way, I must 
go myself; my spare time is up.” 

Into Mardie’s hand he put the volume he 
had been holding, saying, hurriedly: 

“Keep it; it may be of service to you; and 
remember that, as a rule, the simplest sto- 
86 



‘ Now, here’s a book that is sure to live.” 






. A '• 




MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

ries are the best. I wish you success, and 
hope some time to accept some of your work. 
Good-morning.” With a courteous bow he 
ushered her out, and, before she knew it, 
Mardie found herself on the way up-town, 
bewildered, mortified, and forlornly con- 
scious of failure. 

There was no one at home, so she went 
directly to her ^^den,” and sinking into a 
chair, began to read the new book. She did 
not stop to examine the title-page or frontis- 
piece, but opened in the middle, and de- 
voured page after page; and as she read she 
grew more and more astonished, and at 
length the book fell from her grasp as she 
gave herself a little shake, exclaiming aloud: 

^Why, I knew those people; I could have 
written that!” And then an impulse made 
her turn to the title-page, and there she saw : 

NEW ENGLAND SKETCHES, 

By 

Anna Keith Humphreys. 

87 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

Her mother a writer! — on the way to fame! 
— adding to the family income by her work! 
Why, Mardie had laughed at her criticisms, 
had scorned her advice, and patronized her! 
She had thought that her fame would cover 
her mother with glory, and now the positions 
were reversed! 

Mardie was tired, lonely, and discouraged; 
her mistakes loomed up before her moun- 
tains high; and the thought was not a pleas- 
ant one that, if she had only realized how 
to work, she might have been much nearer 
becoming successful than she was, even 
without her mortifying N ew Y ork visit. Any 
number of funny exploits of the boys, and of 
quaint Denfield happenings came to her 
mind, that she might have practised on at 
home if she had been wiser. Then she fell 
to wondering what Denfield people were say- 
ing about the book, and how her mother was 
acting in her new role. All at once an al- 
most overpowering desire came over her to 
see them all — to be in the midst of the rejoi- 
cing. A vision of the little mother as she had 
88 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 

seen her many a time, mending and planning 
by lamplight, that Mardie might be ready 
for some merrymaking, came before her. 
She heard her voice, ^^My child, you are ma- 
king us very unhappy by your conduct; do 
you know it?’’ She thought of Eloise’s an- 
swer to one of her envious speeches. ^Why, 
Mardie,” she had said, “I don’t see why you 
call me so much more fortunate than your- 
self. I would give all my things to have your 
jolly country life with Ethel and the boys.” 
Next she thought of Miss Travers, of her old 
friends and her old self; and then, the pre- 
cious book tightly clasped in her arms, she 
flew down-stairs to her cousin’s room, half 
blinded from sitting so long in darkness, 
and flung the book in her lap, saying, ex- 
citedly: 

^‘LooTc at it! Look at it! I must go home 
right away! Next winter, if you will have 
me, I will come again and be more with you 
and Eloise. Oh, but I’m proud that she is 
my mother! I am going to be famous, after 
all!” 


7 


89 


MARDIE’S EXPERIENCE 


And the telegram despatched to Denfield 
that night read as follows: 

^^Hurrah for Denfield! Expect old Mardie 
on three o^clock train to-morrow. Other 
Mardie dead; killed by experience! 

H.” 


90 


i 


THE BOYS’ BALL 


THE BOYS’ BALL 


A Christmas Sketch 

Archie and Fred had both brought their 
school chums home with them for the holi- 
days, and Belle Ives, Sue McLane, and Flor- 
ence Stowe had come back with me from 
Miss McMurray’s. So there were a jolly 
party of us, and as it was an ideal December, 
with plenty of cold weather and snow, we 
had our fill of sleighing and tobogganing, as 
well as indoor sport. 

Also we had an absorbing topic of discus- 
sion, which took up all our spare minutes, 
and at meal times almost excluded other 
topics of conversation. 

We talked it over, and talked it over, 
and talked it over, and yet could not come 
any nearer to a conclusion about what en- 
93 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

tertainment we should give on Christmas 
Eve. 

Mother had been consulted times without 
number, but she only smiled and said : 

^^Decide for yourselves, girls, and then I 
will help carry out your plans,’’ which, by the 
way, was a great deal worse than a positive 
command to ^^do this,” or ^^not to do that,” 
for it still left all the responsibility of choice 
on our shoulders. 

Sue wanted an old-fashioned country 
dance, with invitations for young and 
old. Belle was eager to have a vaudeville 
show; Florence had no positive ideas on 
the subject, while I wavered between a 
Christmas tree, a candy-pull, and a regular 
cotillion — but not one of us could decide 
what we really preferred. Finally, we grew 
to be such a nuisance to the family, that the 
boys openly declared they would have noth- 
ing more to do with us until we — as they 
slangily expressed it — ^‘gave that old hobby- 
horse a rest!” 

‘Well, take hold and help us decide, then,” 
94 


THE BOYS’ BALL 


said Belle. ^^You just jeer at us, and 
then when we have done all the work, you 
will come in for the funT’ 

We were all sitting together at twilight 
by the library fire, with only its glow defin- 
ing our lounging positions — we girls on the 
divans, mother in a big armchair, and the 
boys on the hearth-rug popping corn. 

^^Take that statement back, ma’am; it’s a 
base libel on our sex,” said Archie, shaking 
his corn-popper in the direction of the divan 
and Belle. ^We are dying to give our views 
on the subject, and to work, too, but you 
girls talk so much, we are never able to get 
a word in edgewise!” 

^^Oh-h! what a tale!” 

^Well, it’s so. We have ten ideas to your 
one, and if you’ll leave the party to us, we 
will put it through with a rush and give you 
a regular old rouser of a time!” 

“Honestly? Beally and truly?” cried a 
chorus from the divan. “Do you mean to say 
that you will take the whole responsibility 
of getting up the affair without a bit of help 
from us?” 


95 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

we do, will you all swear off from the 
subject and behave like ordinary mortals 
again?’’ 

will that, and make you our very best 
bows. But look out! You have owned to 
being so very superior to us, that we shall 
expect something wonderful,” said Sue, ro- 
guishly. 

^^And no talk about it,” chimed in Belle. 

“And mother as general adviser and get- 
ter-up of the whole thing!” I murmured, un- 
der my breath; then aloud: “Very well, we 
wash our hands of the whole affair. I feel 
ten years younger already!” 

Two days later we found these invitations 
on our plates at the breakfast table: 

“The pleasure of your company is re- 
quested at a Charity Ball, to be given at 
Blitheacre on Christmas Eve. 

“Cotillion at nine o’clock. K.S.V.P.” 

“Charity ball? What idea have they got 
in their heads, I wonder, and who thought 
96 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

of it? If there is any real charity in it I shall 
strongly suspect that Mrs. Sinclair sug- 
gested it/’ said Belle. 

‘Whatever it is, they are making forty 
times more fuss about it than we would 
have/’ chuckled Sue, while we watched the 
perturbed youths, as they bolted their meals 
abstractedly; disappeared for hours at a 
time; called for “Mum” frantically fifty 
times a day, and fiew around very much like 
headless chickens, finding themselves in- 
volved in more work than they had expected. 

We might have teased them, but we were 
merciful, and heaped coals of fire on their 
heads by remaining deaf and blind to every- 
thing — only smiling quietly to ourselves 
meanwhile — until the eventful day came. 

Then, to our great joy, they kindly invited 
us to help decorate the house, for we would 
have felt very much defrauded to have been 
left out of that fun, but had planned for a 
long sleigh-ride in case they did not conde- 
scend to ask us. 

Also, in a burst of confidence, they gave us 
97 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

a general outline of their plan, leaving all 
the details to surprise us. 

^^It is a simply beautiful idea, boys,’’ I 
said, admiringly; ‘^but it doesn’t sound a bit 
like you. Now', confess that mother was at 
the bottom of it!” 

^^It’s no such thing,” said Archie, indig- 
nantly. ^‘You girls are so queer. You seem 
to think just because we are boys, we can’t 
by any chance have a good idea of our own, 
but I tell you what, you make a great mis- 
take. We’re not as bad as we seem!” 

^^My dear, we look for your speedy transla- 
tion — any one with your angelic disposition 
could never stay long on this poor earth. We 
confess you are all angels; but before you 
fly away, do come and nail up this wreath 
for me!” This from saucy Belle, who never 
lost an opportunity to pay Archie back in his 
own coin. 

When everything was ready, and we 
waiting for our guests to arrive, the house 
certainly looked charming, and so ‘^Christ- 
mas-y,” for we had massed greens every- 
98 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

where, on mantels, in corners, and even 
twined them around the portiere poles; so 
that when the rooms were cleared for dan- 
cing, there was no effect of bareness, and 
everywhere the glossy leaves and red berries 
of the holly added brightness. 

Between the two big parlors hung a 
^^Merry Christmas’’ formed of tiny electric 
lights, and stars of lights twinkled in front 
of the mirrors over the mantels, while in the 
door of the little white-and-gold reception- 
room hung the mistletoe. 

Certainly it was a beautiful sight, and 
more beautiful still, when the girls in eve- 
ning gowns began to flit about among the 
greens. 

Every one knew every one else, and all were 
prepared for something funny, for it had 
been rumored that this was entirely an affair 
of the boys’ planning, so there was no stiff 
time before the dancing began, but t^tes-a- 
t^tes flourished, and jokes, and puns by the 
dozen were made about the ^‘Charity Ball.” 

Promptly at the appointed hour, the cotil- 
99 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

lion began, Archie leading, with a pucker of 
responsibility wrinkling his forehead, for he 
had only done it once before at dancing- 
school. 

The favors for the first figure were a sur- 
prise to the boys themselves, as well as to 
us; for, instead of the boutonnieres and hair- 
sprays of real holly that they had provided, 
father had substituted dainty little enamel 
pins — perfect copies of holly sprays. Bless 
his dear heart! He stood in a corner, rub- 
bing his hands and chuckling to himself as 
he saw the success of his surprise, and heard 
the murmurs of admiration over the pins. 

see where the charity comes in,” ex- 
claimed one of the girls. ^Tt ‘was a charity 
to ask us, if all the favors are to be like 
these!” 

^Well, they are not — these are the only 
satisfactory ones you will have, so resign 
yourself,” answered Archie, who happened 
to hear her words. 

Then the door of a small back room flew 
open, and disclosed the favor-table groaning 
100 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

under a weight of sparkling little Christmas 
trees and bright-covered picture-books. The 
girls offered ^‘Kobinson Crusoe,” ^^Strange 
Adventures of a Savage,” and other equally 
profound treatises to the fellows; while they, 
in turn, gave the girls the little toy-hung 
trees. 

These strange favors greatly mystified 
every one, and so did those for the next fig- 
ures — enormous red silk handkerchiefs, long 
crocheted mufflers, knit gloves, and mittens. 
Already we looked very much like a Wild 
West Show, for every wearable article we at 
once put on, and the belle of the evening 
promenaded in a pair of blue mittens, three 
mufflers of different brilliant shades, and a 
head-dress made of a handkerchief! 

Next came bright calico dress patterns 
and gay cravats; and by this time, we were 
all so spent with laughter that supper was 
a welcome diversion. 

^^How did you think of it all, and what does 
it mean?” was the query echoed on every 
side, but no one volunteered any answer, al- 
101 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

though I think a faint suspicion of the idea 
had begun to dawn in some minds. 

As I was slowly sauntering back to the 
drawing-room with my partner, having done 
full justice to the big plum-puddings and 
snap-dragon bowl, I stopped a minute to ad- 
mire the amber-shaded lights in the recep- 
tion-room. Keally, I never thought — I didn^t 
dream of being caught under the old mistle- 
toe — but I was! You can imagine my dis- 
gust, for I knew how I should be teased about 
it afterward. Just as I was preparing to 
express my mind on the subject very freely, 
I saw Archie depositing a market basket at 
the feet of the offender with a low bow, and 
forgot my anger in curiosity. 

“There,” he said, solemnly, “is your pun- 
ishment for catching my sister. Here, boys, 
close round and hold him down until he prom- 
ises to carry this basket in broad daylight, 
to-morrow, to the poorest woman he can 
hear of in the town and give it to her with 
a ‘Merry Xmas!’ Promise!” 

The fellows entered into the joke and held 
102 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

him captive until, in sheer self-defense, he 
groaned out a promise, and shook himself 
free with an air of ^^Well, that really didn’t 
pay,” which convulsed us all, for he was a 
very elegant youth, and was never known 
to carry so much as a pill-box on the street! 

Two more plain figures were danced, then 
came the last one, which degenerated into a 
real romp; and anything so simply ridicu- 
lous as the favors for it were never seen be- 
fore. 

Chickens, turkeys, bags of flour, bunches 
of vegetables tied up like choicest roses, 
canned goods, oatmeal, tea, and cranberries, 
were exchanged, with jokes and peals of 
laughter. 

^^Arrah, begorra!” said Belle, in comical 
brogue, as a third bag of flour was offered 
her. ^Wid me clothin’ provided, an’ me flour 
barr’l filled up, there’ll be no buyin’ for me, 
at all, at all!” 

We laughed over the funny sight until 
tears rolled down our cheeks; then, sobering 
down a little, glanced again at the queer 
103 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

piles beside each chair, and were overcome 
with amusement once more. 

Then, before there was time for a reaction, 
through the back room and into our midst, 
came a genuine gray-bearded, apple-cheeked 
Santa Claus, pack and all. 

Here, at last, would be a solution to the 
riddle, for the old gentleman had evidently 
come to make a speech. So we listened ex- 
pectantly as he began, in a strangely familiar 
voice: 

‘Tn ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen,’^ he 
said, can wish you all a Merry Christmas, 
but it is not time yet, and I have something 
to say first. I have something to tell you in 
these ten minutes,^^ and he fairly beamed 
upon us as he spoke. 

“I^m in an awful muddle this year — an aw^ 
ful muddle. Men all behindhand; reindeer 
sick; plans upset; upset myself by it all. So 
I sat down and tried to think how to 
straighten things out. Then an idea came to 
me and I clapped my cap on my head, and 
said I to myself, Tt^s done!’ and off I went. 

104 



One of the results of the boys’ ball. 






1 




THE BOYS’ BALL 

‘^You see, I knew you good people wanted 
dreadfully to be charitable, and yet liked a 
jolly time, too; so I said: ^I’ll give them some 
fun, if they’ll give me some help. Now, isn’t 
that fair?” 

(Applause.) 

‘^Now,” continued Santa Claus, ^^haven’t I 
given you a rousing good time?” 

^^Yes! Yes!” with applause. ^^Well, then, 
here’s your chance to pay me back. You see, 
I am an agent for the Christ-child, and, to 
help me out, if you’ll take a hand among the 
poor, that is all I will ask. The rich I have to 
go to, personally, or there’s a terrible rum- 
pus. They can’t stand being disappointed, 
rich folks can’t, so I go to them myself. But 
if you will just take those pretty little trees 
to some poor little girls in hospital wards, 
where toys are only a dream; give those pic- 
ture-books to plucky boys, who can’t run and 
enjoy life; and mention my name, they’ll like 
you better, and I’ll be assisted. Then, on 
your way home, leave these turkeys and good 
things, these dresses and gloves, with the 
8 105 


THE BOYS* BALL 

poor, tired mothers and daughters, to whom 
Christmas is only a name, and who can just 
make ends meet, let alone celebrating holi- 
days. 

“You won’t get any pay from me. They’ll 
pay you. Speak of the tender, loving Christ- 
child; mention me. Their delight will reward 
you. 

“You don’t know any poor woman or sick 
children? Bah! Where there’s a will there’s 
a way. Take trouble to hunt them out. 
There are lots here at your very doors. If 
I had time I would make you a list — but I 
haven’t, so I will only say: Find ’em! Give 
to them as fully, as freely, as you have been 
given to all these years! You can if you will; 
and you will, because it’s a bargain betwi^en 
us. Hunt my people up and give them reason 
to remember this holiday season! Will you?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Santa 
Claus turned and vanished as swiftly a^ he 
had come, while a hush fell over us all. The 
speech and the question had set us thinking, 
and although in an instant the talking and 
106 


THE BOYS’ BALL 

laughing began again, and we seemed as gay 
as before, there were some of us who felt a 
new purpose and inspiration stir in us as a 
deep-toned clock chimed the midnight hour 
and “Merry Christmas!” was echoed on every 
side. 

And some of us are still thinking — thanks 
to the boys and their Charity Ball! 


107 


I 

i 


! 

I 

1 



EVELYN’S IMPULSE 



■I 




I 


\ 

s 


( 


i 





EVELYN’S IMPULSE 


As the postman’s shrill whistle sounded at 
the door, Evelyn said to herself: know it 

will come back; of course it will!” 

And yet when the long fat envelope was 
actually handed to her, she was distinctly 
shocked, and realized that, after all, she had 
not expected it. But she resumed her em- 
broidery, the envelope under her apron, and 
sewed hard and fast for some moments. 
Presently her scissors dropped, and she 
frowned as she picked them up; then her silk 
knotted; she jerked it impatiently, and it 
broke; then she pricked her finger and threw 
down her work. 

^^Oh, bother!” she exclaimed; just hate 
sewing!” 

Her mother pushed up her spectacles and 
glanced sharply at her daughter. 

^Why, child, what is the matter to-day?” 

Ill 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

she said. ^^You seem so nervous and unlike 
yourself. Do put your work down and go out 
for a walk in the sunshine!’’ 

But Evelyn refused to be coaxed into a 
good humor. ^^No,” she said, abruptly; 
don’t want to, mother. Nothing’s the mat- 
ter. If my head wants to split over this old 
work, why let it! It’s not good for ouch, 
anyway!” 

With which remark she went off to her own 
room, to find a new needle, she said; but once 
there, alone, the needle was forgotten, as she 
eagerly examined the address on the envel- 
ope she was still holding. Then she smiled 
a cynical little smile, saying to herself, “ ^Ke- 
jection of a manuscript does not imply lack 
of merit!’ Oh, no! of course not! With many 
thanks for having been allowed to examine 
it.’ Yes, indeed, I know the formula by 
heart. There is no need of opening the thing. 
Stupid old editors! I believe they just live 
to torment me. Mean, prejudiced, unappre- 
ciative creatures!” 

No one but the canary heard this tirade, 
112 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

but it was a relief to Evelyn^s overburdened 
mind, and rising, she tossed the unopened 
envelope into her desk, saying: ‘^There, old 
thing! you can just stay hidden forever! No- 
body wants you!’’ Then she took a needle 
from her work-basket, and went back to her 
mother’s room, humming to herself most un- 
concernedly. 

With Evelyn the love of writing amounted 
almost to a passion. Even as a child she had 
scribbled verses to her pet canary and to the 
sunset while the other children were romp- 
ing out of doors, and now that she was older 
her love of literary work was steadily in- 
creasing. In the year since she left school 
all of her spare time had been spent at her 
desk, and she had sent out many manu- 
scripts, enclosing stamps for return — and so 
far the stamps had always been used! 

At first, the return of each story had 
plunged her into deep melancholy, but her 
brother Ned, seeing her discouragement, and 
believing that she really had enough ability 
to warrant her in persevering, talked to her 
113 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

seriously about the matter. He gave her a 
little insight into some editorial reasons for 
returning articles besides that primary one 
of wounding the feelings of would-be con- 
tributors, and told her of the years of hard 
work through which writers arrive at suc- 
cess, finally convincing her that she must 
write with no thought of results, and keep 
on sending out her best work for the sake 
of discipline, sure of recognition in time, if 
her talent was genuine. 

After that she toiled bravely on, trying 
not to mind the fast-accumulating pile of 
manuscripts in her desk, and fighting back 
her discouragement with a remembrance of 
her brother's counsel. 

Ned meanwhile had married, and gone to 
Staten Island to live, so Evelyn and her 
mother were alone, and as Mrs. Sawyer’s in- 
come had been much cut down during the re- 
cent stock panic, they were obliged to live 
more simply than before. For herself 
Evelyn did not mind, but it hurt her keenly 
that her mother should do without comforts, 
114 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

which, although she never complained of 
lacking, Evelyn knew she missed, and the 
girPs desire to make money by her pen grew 
daily more intense. 

‘^Just to see a nice check drop out of a 
letter, and know that my brain had earned 
it, for mother’s delicacies, would make life 
worth living!” she sighed, at the end of a 
week during which four stories and two 
poems had come back. ‘‘It is too mean! I 
don’t believe George Eliot or Victor Hugo 
ever worked harder than I do. Trying is no 
good — no good whatever!” 

After this she became so downcast that 
her mother was worried, and tried to cheer 
her up with praise, and assurances that some 
day, when she least expected it, she would 
find herself successful. “Your work is better 
than half that is printed in the magazines, 
dear,” she said. “I am sure if it were only 
signed by Rachel Dunn Coates or some other 
famous author, it would be taken at once. 
Don’t give up yetj some day the editors will 
discover you!” 


115 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

This comfort Eve received with a grim lit- 
tle smile, and was not much reassured by it, 
for she knew that a mother^s judgment is apt 
to be biased. Seeing, however, that she was 
really troubling her mother, she said no 
more about her woes, and Mrs. Sawyer imag- 
ined that her comforting words had been 
taken to heart. 

The unopened manuscript which Eve had 
tossed into her desk so vindictively was one 
with a plot which she had felt to be an in- 
spiration. She had spent weeks in elabora- 
ting it, and when it was ready to go out, be- 
lieved, with a thrill of hope, that it would 
not come back. And then — it had been re- 
turned ! 

The night after her mother had attempted 
to cheer her, she was too disheartened to 
sleep, and lay indulging in self-pity, which 
grew more intense as the night wore on. 
Then over the blackness of her despair, rock- 
et-like, an idea flashed, magniflcent in its 
possibilities. 

The next morning she unlocked her desk 
116 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

and took from it an old story. With a paper- 
cutter, mucilage, her typewriter, and a slip 
of paper, she freshened up the last page to 
her satisfaction, addressed an envelope, and 
ran across the street to mail it. But once 
there, with the package poised on the letter- 
box, she hesitated, took it out — put it back 
again — then pulled her hand away, and the 
precious thing was beyond her reach! As 
she heard it drop, she was possessed with a 
wild desire to break open the box. But in- 
stead, she walked away, murmuring, “Now 
we’ll find out if it’s a question of merit or 
name! It will be fun to see the result!” 

Ned and his wife appeared that day for 
a week’s visit, and while they were there 
Evelyn had no time for her work, and little 
for quiet thought. Ned was eager to hear 
what she had been writing, but whenever he 
introduced the subject she answered so im- 
patiently that he wisely did not press the 
subject further, having had some experience 
of his sister’s moods. 

Although those were such busy days. Eve 
117 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
always tried to be at home at mail-time and 
take the letters herself from the postman. 
Once when Ned chanced to be at the door, 
she was almost fierce with him, to his great 
astonishment. 

‘What on earth’s the matter with you, old 
lady?” he said. “What’s the objection to my 
seeing an advertisement of Pearline and the 
gas-bill? If it had been a love-letter, now — 
oh, why, that didn’t occur to me. Of course 
that’s what you expected. I’m sorry you 
were disappointed!” 

He seemed half offended, but was pacified 
by Eve’s quick laugh and her rejoinder, 
“Don’t be silly, brother mine; I was only try- 
ing to rouse your curiosity!” 

But she was really watching eagerly for 
a letter which did not come, and which at last 
she decided had been lost in the mail. 

Having reached this conclusion, the calm- 
ness of despair settled upon her, and she 
tried to occupy her mind with other matters, 
with indifferent success. After Amy left, 
the house was very quiet, and the next after- 
118 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
noon, while Mrs. Sawyer was asleej), Eve be- 
gan to write again, jotting down some 
thoughts in her note-book. Instantly she for- 
got everything except her delight in the be- 
loved work, and sighed impatiently when the 
door-bell rang. It was such an imperative 
ring, that, hurrying down to answer it, she 
wondered if it were a telegram, and from 
whom. But when she opened the door, she 
confronted, not the expected small boy, but 
a tall, blond woman with a most imperious 
manner. 

^‘This is No. 48 Essex Street, is it not?’’ 
she inquired, and Eve assented, wondering 
whether she was selling sewing-machines or 
cleansing fluid. 

^^And Mrs. Coates — Rachel Dunn Coates, 
the writer, is she here?” 

Up flew the vivid red to Evelyn’s forehead 
and cheeks, even to the tips of her ears, and 
she did not answer. The stranger, after a 
moment, repeated her question. 

Giving herself a little shake, Evelyn 
framed an almost inaudible sound with her 
119 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
lips, which might have been no, and a per- 
plexed expression crossed her companion's 
face. 

^^That is very strange,” she said, slowly. 
‘^Very strange, indeed. There must be a mis- 
take somewhere. If you will allow me, I will 
step inside for a moment, it is very cold 
here,” and Evelyn led the way into the par- 
lor, looking more like a detected criminal 
in her bearing than like her usual self. 

Seating herself, the stranger drew from 
her pocket an envelope, and from it took a 
slip of paper. 

“A fortnight ago,” she said, ^‘at the Decade 
office, a manuscript was received bearing the 
signature of Mrs. Coates and giving this ad- 
dress. Now, Mrs. Coates is one of our oldest 
contributors, as well as an intimate friend 
of mine. Knowing that on account of ill- 
health she had stopped all work and gone 
abroad for a year, we were utterly surprised 
to receive this article. Having her own home 
in the city, we did not understand why she 
should come here, either. The manuscript is 
120 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

a very crude one, absolutely guiltless of 
the distinguishing characteristics of Mrs. 
Coates’s work, and — another curious thing 
— the signature is typed, a most unbusiness- 
like proceeding.” 

The stranger stopped abruptly, looking at 
Evelyn with such keen eyes that the girl felt 
as if she were a fly under a microscope. 
^^Curious, is it not?” the stranger repeated. 
^‘And you are perfectly sure that she has not 
been here?” 

Eve’s ^^no” was again almost too faint to 
be heard, but it was audible to her compan- 
ion, who added, quickly: 

‘^Then, if she is not here, and has not been, 
there is something wrong; and I am going 
to ferret out the mystery. Of course, read- 
ing several hundred articles daily, as we do, 
we become pretty familiar with styles, and 
it does not take ten minutes, generally, to 
detect a forgery. This manuscript came to 
my desk marked, ^Bogus. Find out im- 
postor,’ You are sure that you can not give 
me any information?” 

9 121 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

Again the red, purple flush overspread 
Eve’s face, and, to hide it, she leaned over 
and carefully picked a thread off the carpet. 
Then she said, distinctly: 

am sorry to say that I can not give you 
any assistance in the matter.” 

The stranger rose, consulted her watch, 
and took leave of Evelyn. 

“I go to the suburbs so seldom,” she ex- 
plained, ^‘that I feel I must allow plenty of 
time to catch the train. Sorry you can not 
help me. I only hope it is not some young 
girl who has done this thing. In itself the 
manuscript, crude as it is, has a promise of 
good things to come for its writer, without 
the necessity of becoming a forger, and mer- 
iting a forger’s punishment. Good-after- 
noon.” 

She went briskly down the street, and Eve 
watched her until she was out of sight. Then 
she went in, readjusted the parlor chairs, 
mounted the stairs again, and was busily wri- 
ting when her mother awoke. 

But from that day she was a changed per- 
122 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
son. Appetite and color fled, she seldom 
smiled, seemed to have no interest in people 
or things, and refused utterly and stubbornly 
to go out or to amuse herself in any way. 
Poor Mrs. Sawyer was again much worried, 
and insisted on a visit to the doctor, who 
ordered plenty of fresh air, rest, and cod- 
liver oil. But his prescription, so far as Eve 
could be persuaded to follow it, was not a 
success, and Mrs. Sawyer was at her wiPs end 
for a remedy. “Just say what it is you want, 
dearie, or what you would like to do,” she 
said, appealingly, “and we will try to 
gratify you. Only do smile again, for my 
sake.” 

But Eve only answered, impatiently: “Just 
leave me alone, mother; I’m not worth wor- 
rying about. All I ask is to be somebody 
else!” 

And her mother’s appeals fell on deaf 
ears. 

Then came a sudden resolution, one morn- 
ing when she was busy making cake. Wi- 
ping the flour from her hands, she hurried in 
123 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

and wrote a note, sealed it hastily, and de- 
spatched it at once, as if she feared to 
change her mind about sending it. Its con- 
tents must have been satisfactory to her, for 
though she was paler than usual during the 
day, she smiled more than once. 

As the assistant editor of the Decade 
opened her mail the following morning, she 
read one letter through a number of times, 
sat deep in thought for some moments, then 
went to the editor’s office. 

have ferreted out that Coates manu- 
script mystery,” she said, “and it is as I 
feared. Here, read this.” The note which 
she gave him read : 

“Editor Decade. 

“Dear Sir — I signed myself Eachel Dunn 
Coates at the end of a manuscript entitled 
‘Love’s Dream,’ which I wrote myself. 
Kindly let the law take its course, and I will 
abide by the consequences, which I deserve. 
“Yours truly, 

“48 Essex St., Evelyn Sawyer. 

“Darlington, N. J.” 

124 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

When he had read it twice, the editor 
glanced at his assistant with a grim smile. 
^^Just as you feared/’ he said. ^^Now, what 
shall we do about it? That young woman 
had better be taught at once not to play with 
fire. Considering the circumstances, suppose 
I leave the administration of justice in your 
hands. I might handle her too roughly.” 

^Wery well,” she said; was hoping you 
would.” 

The assistant editor was a very busy 
woman, but the next day she despatched her 
work at lightning speed — pigeonholed a 
large amount of it for the next day, consulted 
time-tables, and by two o’clock was on her 
way to Darlington again. Evelyn again an- 
swered the bell, and did not seem surprised 
when once more confronted by her city vis- 
itor. This time there was little doubt as to 
her errand. Evelyn smiled a wan little smile 
and grew so white that her companion 
feared she was going to faint, and said, hur- 
riedly: 

^^You see, I found the suburbs so attractive 
125 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 


that I have come for a second glimpse of 
them.” Then, turning quickly, as if she felt 
that the sooner the interview was over the 
better, she placed a hand on Eve’s shoulder, 
looking straight into the girl’s brown eyes, 
now brilliant with intense excitement, and 
her keen glance seemed to burn through 
Eve’s very thoughts. 

^Ts this Mrs. Coates?” she asked, and 
paused, waiting. With a cry of defiant mis- 
ery, Eve freed herself. 

‘Wes, it is,” she said, wildly; “and I don’t 
care a bit what you do to me — indeed, I 
don’t!” 

She flung herself down on the divan, 
among the cushions, and there was silence 
until the older woman rose, and, standing by 
the divan, said: 

“Come, Miss Sawyer, sit up and accept 
your punishment bravely. You know it is 
deserved!” 

The sharp words were like a tonic to Eve- 
lyn, who emerged at once from the pillows 
and sat erect, with her fingers tightly inter- 
laced. 


126 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
on!^’ she said. ^^Only please be quick! 
But first, you must let me tell you how I did 
it. You see — that is — I mean’’ — she was 
stammering with nervousness — ‘fit isn’t any 
excuse, but — I wanted money dreadfully, 
and I was discouraged and perfectly furious 
because the editors kept sending back my 
things. Then it occurred to me it would be 
a fine joke to send a story under a famous 
name, and if it was accepted, to write and 
tell them that I had at last proved what I 
had always suspected — that they were infiu- 
enced by big names more than by merit.” 

“And you had no intention of being known 
under a false signature?” 

Evelyn sat up very straight as she an- 
swered : 

“Why, of course not! I was only going to 
catch an editor and then confess!” 

“And you typed the signature because you 
felt you could not copy Mrs. Coates’s writing 
skilfully enough to escape detection.” 

“Indeed, it was no such thing!” An indig- 
nant expression flashed into Evelyn’s eyes. 

127 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
am not quite so bad as that! It never 
entered my head to copy Mrs. Coates’s wri- 
ting — which, by the way, I never saw. In 
fact, I didn’t think about a thing. I had an 
impulse, and I followed it — that’s all there 
was to the whole matter!” 

The older woman was silent so long that 
Eve’s nervousness grew intense. 

^Well?” she said, and the sharply spoken 
monosyllable roused her companion from 
deep thought. 

have a daughter about your age,” she 
said, slowly. ^^She is very impulsive, too. I 
was just thinking where impulses lead us if 
we follow them blindly. This is the result 
of following yours: First, you have made 
yourself ridiculous in the eyes of the editor 
of the Decade — who, by the way, might have 
given you a great deal of help if he had be- 
come interested in you, for he is always 
eager to find new writers of promise. But 
instead, you have appeared to him as foolish 
as a child, for no one with any sense would 
have attempted such a piece of work; and, 
128 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
of course, you can never send any work to our 
office again. In the second place, you have 
made yourself as uncomfortable and un- 
happy for several weeks as it is possible to 
be. And last, but by no means least, you are 
liable to whatever punishment Mrs. Coates 
sees fit to infiict upon you — if the Decade 
editor chooses to inform her of your ac- 
tions.” 

With a quick gesture Evelyn slipped down 
on her knees beside the stranger. ^^Oh, I 
know!” she said; ^findeed I do! Now, tell me 
where I can find Mrs. Coates, and I will go 
to her and tell her every single word about 
it myself!” 

Slowly a hand was raised and laid on the 
dark hair, and Evelyn^s eyes, looking be- 
seechingly into those of her companion, saw 
a glance of uncontrollable amusement in 
them as the older woman spoke. am 
Rachel Dunn Coates , she said, slowly and dis- 
tinctly, watching Eve’s expressive face 
closely. ^^Do you see now what a risk you 
ran?” 


129 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

There was no answer. Utter astonishment 
was written on every line of Eve’s face; and 
Mrs. Coates, seeing that she was stunned by 
the disclosure, continued: 

‘‘As I told you, I have been abroad for a 
year, and only returned to take up my edi- 
torial work just before your MS. came into 
my hands. That is where you were fortunate 
beyond your deserts.” 

“And what are you going to do with me?” 
said Evelyn, in a clear, firm voice. “Make 
it as dreadful as you can, please; I am not a 
coward!” 

Mrs. Coates snapped the case of her watch 
and put it in place. She had fifteen minutes 
in which to catch her train. “I am going to 
leave you to think it over,” she said, quietly. 
“From what I have seen of you, I infer that 
that, together with what you have already 
thought on the subject, will be quite as much 
punishment as you can bear at one time. But 
for the typed signature, that action would 
have been a criminal one. As it is, you came 
quite near enough to it. And you have 
130 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

caused me a great deal of trouble as well as 
loss of valuable time. Think it all over, and 
if you need any additional discomfiture, 
come to our office and I will introduce you to 
the editor-in-chief!’’ 

Between her mortification, and a desire to 
appropriately thank the generous woman to 
whom she owed so much, Evelyn was en- 
tirely at a loss for words. Not a sentence 
could she frame, and while she was fiushing 
and paling with the effort, Mrs. Coates had 
passed over the threshold and turned the 
corner, on her way to the station. 

Slowly Evelyn went up to her room, thank- 
ful that her mother’s door was still closed, 
for she needed to be alone for a time. It was 
not a pleasant matter to look back on her 
act and its consequences, but she was frank 
with herself, and judged her act with pitiless 
severity. ^^Crying won’t do any good,” she 
said to herself, at last; ^ffiot a bit, but work 
will. I am going to work and work and work, 
until I can show Mrs. Coates that she need 
not be ashamed of her double any longer! 

131 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 
That^s the only way I can pay her back, and 
I shall do itr’ 

The sun was shining into her room, touch- 
ing the keys of her desk, and with a quick 
thought. Eve went over and opened it, took 
out the MS. which had so long lain there un- 
opened, and broke the seal. During the past 
weeks her mind had been so occupied with 
other matters that she had completely for- 
gotten it. To her surprise, as she took it 
from the envelope, a note dropped out, which 
she read in breathless haste: 

^^Dear Madam — The enclosed MS. meets 
with our approval, except in a few places 
where it can be cut with advantage. The 
passages are marked. We pay on publica- 
tion. As it is an Easter story, kindly let us 
have it by March 15th, and oblige, 

H. Hollingsworth, Ed.” 

Instinctively, she turned to the calendar 
hanging by her desk, torn off to April 25th. 

There was not a sound in that room for a 
132 


EVELYN’S IMPULSE 

long, long time; the silence was so intense 
that it could be almost heard. Then Evelyn 
walked over to the bureau and, facing her- 
self, said in firm, sarcastic tones: 

^Well, you wise, patient, clever, good crea- 
ture, you, how do you feel now? Aren’t you 
glad you’re alive to do so many bright things? 
Don’t you feel real respectable and satisfied 
with yourself, and entirely happy? I should 
think you would. Now, listen to me : Go and 
give your mother the benefit of your experi- 
ence, and if you ever give way to an impulse 
like that again, I won’t own you for a rela- 
tion!” 

It is scarcely necessary to add that she 
never did. 


133 



MARJORIE’S SCHEME 



I 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 


It was no great formal reception that Mrs. 
Stanford was giving. It was just a cozy 
little “at home,” to which were bidden a few 
kindred spirits, some literary women, a mu- 
sician or two — who played and sang at inter- 
vals during the afternoon — a sprinkling of 
intimate friends, and half a dozen of the sea- 
son’s debutantes. 

There was no attempt at wholesale decora- 
tion, but there were individual touches, char- 
acteristic harmonies, and contrasts here and 
there, that betrayed the artist spirit which 
had planned the careless-seeming whole and 
made of the little home a symphony of 
beauty. 

Not the least attractive part of the scene 
was the group of girls gathered around the 
10 137 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

tea-table, chatting and laughing as they 
sipped their tea. 

^Who are those girls?” whispered an eld- 
erly lady to her hostess. ^^They do look 
so pretty in their spring gowns and big 
hats!” 

^^In the corner? Oh, they are my ^rose- 
buds^ — Meg Fleming, Elsie Browne, Jeanne 
Grey, and the Dunn girls, Madge and Rose.” 

^^And the pretty girl pouring tea?” 

^^She is my favorite of them all, Marjorie 
Kane — millionaire Kane’s daughter. Doesn’t 
she look sweet in that white gown? When 
you see one of those girls, you usually find the 
other five, for they are perfectly inseparable. 
What they leave undone is not worth doing. 
They have tennis clubs, and walking clubs, 
and gymnasium classes, and lunch clubs, be- 
sides every other known and unknown sort 
of club. Talk about society girls being blasd 
and indifferent!” 

‘^That is Rob Kane, too. He always seems 
to be with them.” 

Patience has a limit, and that limit is not 
138 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

a very extended one where a youth and an 
afternoon tea are concerned, and long before 
the girls were ready to leave, Jeanne noticed 
Rob standing near them, in an attitude of 
martyr-like dejection, watch in hand. 

^Toor dear! he shall go home, so he shall 
she said, in a mock sympathetic tone; and, 
turning to the others, said, as she put her 
hand through Elsie’s arm: ^^Come on, girls, 
every one is going!” 

^^Then we are all to lunch with you on 
Thursday, Marj?” 

^Tndeed you are; and be sure to all come, 
for you know it’s our last lunch for this sea- 
son. Come early and stay late. By the way, 
I have a scheme to propose to the club!”. 

A little more planning and talking, a sug- 
gestion from Rob that he should not be 
dragged to ^^more than five hundred of these 
things,” and the group broke up. 

As the girls left the room, more than one 
of the older women turned away with a sigh 
for vanished youth and enthusiasm. 

On the day of the luncheon, Marjorie ran 
139 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 
down for a last look at the table before the 
girls came. 

‘‘Yes/’ she murmured, looking with admi- 
ration at the fulfilment of her idea, “it is all 
right; now, if they will only be interested!” 

Then the girls came in and interrupted her 
musing. 

“Margie, you look sweet enough to eat!” 
exclaimed Rose, giving her a loving squeeze, 
as they walked into the dining-room arm in 
arm; and she said truly, for no picture could 
have been prettier than fair Marjorie, with 
her golden hair fluffing all over her head and 
the lilac of her gown heightening the pink 
and whiteness of her skin. 

Certainly she was a beauty, and some said 
a very spoiled one; but they were people 
who knew her slightly, or judged from their 
idea of what the only daughter of a million- 
aire must be. 

An admiring “Oh!” burst from the girls, 
as they seated themselves around the table, 
the effect was so dainty and “Margie-esque,” 
as Elsie put it. 


140 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

Each one of this series of luncheons had 
been arranged, as to table decorations, in 
some one color, and Marjorie had chosen lilac 
— the King’s Daughters’ color — for hers. 

The polished table was covered by lilac 
ribbons, ending at each plate with an em- 
broidered name on its fringed end. In the 
center of the table was a bank of fragrant 
violets, shading down into a circle of the 
same. On the candles were shades of 
maidenhair fern; all the little bonbon dishes 
were filled with candied violets, and at each 
plate lay a mass of those fragrant fiowers. 

^^You extravagant wretch!” exclaimed 
Meg. don’t know which I love most, you 
or the violets!” 

^Tt’s just the sweetest of the whole set, 
Margie; how clever you were to think of it 
all!” said Jeanne, admiringly. 

During luncheon the girls tried in vain to 
find out the new scheme, but the pretty host- 
ess was so persistent in her refusals to say 
anything about it that the merry talk wan- 
dered off into other channels, touching on 
141 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 
matters grave and gay, silly and sensible, 
sparkling with bright thought and ready wit. 

All New Yorkers, born and bred, belong- 
ing to the same world of culture and society, 
their interests and friends were mainly the 
same, and they always had an unending 
amount of subject for discussion. 

Lunch over, the girls settled themselves 
in Margie^s sitting-room for an afternoon of 
cozy talk. 

^^Now, Marj, out with the scheme,’’ said 
Elsie, curling herself up in an armchair, as 
Jeanne and Rose took possession of the 
divan, and the others settled themselves on 
the fur rugs that lay on the floor, their pet 
lounging place. 

^^Come, tell us what your little head has in 
it now,” said Rose. ^^Are we all to go to 
China as missionaries, or ” 

‘^Set up soup- and coal-kitchens in Union 
Square,” interrupted Elsie. 

^‘No, girls. I’ll tell you what she wants — a 
subscription to buy Jack a catechism; he 
needs it badly enough!” 

142 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

yes; or a 

^^It’s a new suit of clothes for her dear 
protegee, Mrs. Murphy.’^ 

^‘Rose,” interrupted Marjorie, in a very 
earnest way, ^^did you ever meet a fellow 
who was often tempted to take too much 
wine?’’ 

‘^Alas! my dear, I am afraid I have!” 

^^Did you ever drink it with him?” 

^Why, yes, I suppose so; at dinners and 
things.” 

^^Jeanne, did you ever give up doing some- 
thing you were very fond of, because you 
knew it had a bad influence on the boys?” 

^Why, no; of course not. I expect them to 
have strength of mind enough not to need 
my influence. But why this catechism, fair 
lady?” 

Margie laughed. was just thinking, 
that’s all. You see, it began in this way ” 

^^The scheme! the scheme!” murmured 
Madge, under her breath. 

^^One day, long ago — just before I had the 
typhoid last winter— I was in my room, and 
143 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 
I heard Rob and Jim Crane talking in Rob’s 
room. What brought up the subject, I don’t 
know; but I heard Rob say, ^Sisters! why, 
they’re no good! They don’t really care 
if a fellow goes to the devil or not — nor other 
fellows’ sisters, either, so far as I can see. 
They only want us to tote ’em around and 
amuse ’em!’” 

^What a story!” exclaimed Rose, indig- 
nantly. 

^^Then,” continued Margie, heard Rob 
say, Wes, sir, you bet we would be better men 
if they only helped us!’ ” 

‘Tooh! I don’t believe they would,” said 
Jeanne, contemptuously. 

^Wait a minute, Jeanne. Then he went on: 
Where’s one girl in New York who could 
twist me round her little finger, if she tried, 
and that’s Jeanne Grey. It’s a pity the girls 
don’t know how much influence they have 
with us.’ 

^Where, Miss Jeanne, don’t blush; I would 
not have told it if your ladyship had not been 
so scornful.” 


144 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

No answer came from Jeanne; all that 
could be seen of her face was the tip of a 
very red ear. 

sat very still after this, trying not to 
lose a word Rob said, and he went on: 

“ What man’s going to refuse a glass of 
wine if a girl like Margie is sitting next to 
him, smiling, and drinking hers? I tell you 
they are responsible for the beginning of lots 
of the things they frown at when they get to 
be settled habits. If a girl will laugh at 
serious things, don’t you suppose I will, 
too?’ 

‘That was all I heard, but it set me think- 
ing; then I was laid up with the typhoid for 
so long, and somehow I never had a chance 
to speak to you girls about it till now. 

“I’ve thought about it in every possible 
way and manner, and I am firmly decided 
that they would not say such a thing if it 
were not true. They do have harder tempta- 
tions to fight than we do, and I believe we 
have not helped them as we might. I pro- 
pose,” Margie’s cheeks were bright red 
145 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

now, and her eyes sparkling with interest 
in her subject, propose that we try to 
show them that our ideal is high and that 
we will not come down to a lower level; they 
must come up to ours.” 

^^But we will have to get up to the ideal 
ourselves, first,” sighed Meg. 

course, and it will not be easy; but I 
do honestly believe it will pay. I propose 
that we use all our power not to infiuence 
them to go one step in the wrong way, and 
to show them that we want friends that we 
can, first of all, respect. There are lots of 
little ways we can help them if we stop and 
think about it; and I think it will do some 
good if they see that we are really willing 
to give up things for their sakes. 

^We do a tremendous deal of frivoling 
about serious subjects that may not hurt us, 
because we don’t mean it, but it infiuences 
them. 

^^What do you say, girls^ to being members 
of my Infiuence Ten? We are all King’s 
Daughters; this will be our private branch.” 

146 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

“I am ready for anything, except to be 
eaten by a cannibal,^’ said Madge. 

‘^My dear,’’ said Meg, with an effort at her 
usual light manner, ^^privately, I have always 
thought good men very stupid, but if they 
are not all saints hereafter it shall not be my 
fault!” 

^‘Alas! alack! I shall be obliged to have a 
complete house-cleaning — mental, moral, 
and physical — before I try to scrub up other 
people’s floors,” said Rose, laughingly, as 
they roused from their lounging positions 
when five o’clock chimed from the clock on 
the mantel, and they realized that the after- 
noon was over. 

Margie went to a drawer and brought out 
six slender gold bracelets, padlocked each by 
a tiny cross of gold. ^^Yon see,” she said, a 
smile flashing in her blue eyes, was so sure 
you would help me that I ordered these 
pledges to remind us as we wear them.” Add- 
ing, in a lower voice: ‘^Just think how much 
it will be worth if our influence ever brings 
one of the boys nearer — the King!” 

147 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 

Not a word more was said on the subject. 
The girls were thinking too seriously to 
speak of it lightly, and the good-nights were 
very quietly said. 

Then they went out to their various lives, 
went back into the whirl of people and 
things, where we can not follow them; but 
in each life there was from that day a new 
thought, that months and years wove into a 
controlling purpose. Theirs were, as the 
world goes, ordinary lives; but who dares 
say they were not changed, broadened, by the 
resolution symbolized by the little gold 
crosses? 

There’s one thing sure. I know none of 
them ever suspected the reason for Margie’s 
thinking so deeply on the subject; nor did 
they know why her engagement was not an- 
nounced; or why Jack Dunning went West. 
But I — I knew; for I am Margie’s brother 
Eob, and it’s all right now; for Marj wears a 
ring on the proper finger, and Jack has a tiny 
cross on his watch-chain. 

I tell you what, my sister is a trump, and 
148 


MARJORIE’S SCHEME 
she has forgiven me long ago for listening 
on that day of her lunch-party. Jeanne Grey 
is a pretty nice girl, too, after all! 


149 













THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 









THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 


Lawrence, or ^Tarry,” Horn was already 
a great favorite in college, although the 
freshman class of which he was a member 
was yet in its infancy. 

But it does not take long to brand a fellow 
with dislike or to stamp him with the hall- 
mark of popularity, and long before the end 
of the first term Larry^s classmates had 
begun to defer to his judgment in matters 
athletic and academic, and to refer to him 
in the expressive phrase — ^^He’ll do!’’ 

In the first place he was by general ac- 
claim an ^^all-round sport,” which implies 
every kind of a compliment; in the second 
place he was very plucky, and willing to 
stand up for his convictions concerning 
manners and morals in a way that was 
11 153 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
bound to win respect if not admiration; in 
the third place — and last is by no means 
least — he had a most bewitching sister! 

After the first sight of this young woman 
with her bright eyes, winning smile, and 
charming manners, classmen of every de- 
gree fell under the spell of her personality, 
and secretly or openly, according to their 
various temperaments, yearned for her 
friendship. In pursuance of this ideal they 
showered attentions upon Larry, who re- 
ceived their favors with a calm indifference 
which showed his understanding of the case, 
as did his remark to a friend: haven^t been 
Bonnie’s brother all these years without 
having my eyes opened — no sirree!” 

The brother and sister were absurdly 
alike, both in looks and manners, and par- 
ticularly so at that time, when Bonnie, just 
recovering from typhoid, had hair as short 
as Larry’s, with the same wavy curl in its 
short thick lengths. Only this was a joy to 
Bonnie and a never-ending source of morti- 
fication to Larry, who daily plastered down 
154 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

the offending curls, only to see them spring 
up into tighter waves than before. Among 
fellows Larry was undersized, while Bonnie 
was tall for a girl, and Larry^s round smooth 
face was a very counterpart of Bonnie’s, 
even to the dimples, which, as far as possi- 
ble, he suppressed. The striking likeness be- 
tween the two was a pleasure to Bonnie’s 
admirers, whose chances of feasting their 
eyes upon her loveliness were few and far 
apart, as she was only visible in Courtney 
at ball games or dances, and in the dreary 
intervals between times it was some degree 
of comfort to look at Larry and dream day- 
dreams of the absent. 

As the term drew to a close and the fresh- 
men had begun to shake down into the rou- 
tine of college life, a wave of excitement 
rippled through their ranks. Their first 
class dinner was about to come off. Theirs 
was the largest freshman class ever entered 
in the little country university, and conse- 
quently theirs was the responsibility to 
overtop all records by the splendor of their 
155 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
feast and by the brilliance of their speeches. 
The committee on arrangements included 
half a dozen carefully picked men, among 
them Larry^s room-mate, Harvey Spence, 
and two other capable chaps. They had 
session after session to talk matters over, 
and sat in many midnight conclaves before 
their plans were made public. The class- 
men were uniformly satisfied with their ar- 
rangements, and there was applause when 
Larry^s name for toastmaster was read out. 
He was much embarrassed and demurred 
loudly, said he didn’t know how to do it, or 
what to say, but all his objections were over- 
ruled and he finally accepted the honor 
thrust upon him. 

Of course Bonnie was keenly interested in 
the affair and volunteered to paint dinner- 
cards for the occasion, an act of kindness 
which made several of the fellows experi- 
ence violent heart-throbs, as each had the 
secret thought that perhaps the deed was 
done for him. However that might be, there 
was no visible evidence on which any one of 
156 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

them could base such a delightful theory, 
so it had to be dismissed, and consolation 
found in the flurry of preparations for the 
fast-approaching night of the dinner. 

The Horns’ home was some flfteen miles 
from the university town, in the little village 
of Unionsville, and when, on the very day of 
the dinner, it was discovered that a dozen of 
the dinner-cards were not to be found, Larry, 
in a frenzy of disgust at the carelessness of 
girls in general and Bonnie in particular, 
was obliged to take a train for Unions- 
ville to hunt up the missing cards. It was 
very annoying, as he had many other things 
to do that afternoon, and when he reached 
home he expressed himself forcibly on the 
subject. Bonnie listened calmly with an 
amused expression on her piquant face while 
he spluttered away about the value of his 
time and her lack of appreciation of the 
fact, then when he paused for breath she 
quietly remarked: 

^^My dear, please put your hand in your 
overcoat pocket and see what you And.” 

157 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

Obediently Larry’s hand followed her dic- 
tate and drew out the missing cards. 

Pleased with his crestfallen appearance 
Bonnie laughed. 

‘There, sir,” she said; “if you had applied 
your mind to remembering, instead of losing 
your temper, you would have saved time and 
breath! Don’t you remember the last day 
you came over I said, ‘Here are a dozen that 
are finished, and you might as well take 
them with you to show to the committee?’ ” 

“Never thought of them again! I’m all 
kinds of an idiot. You see, I’m so new at the 
whole business that it has sort of queered 
me. Forgive me, sister mine — I was dis- 
tinctly nasty, wasn’t I?” 

“You certainly were!” Bonnie’s manner 
was severe but her dimples were in full dis- 
play. To have gotten the better of this be- 
loved brother, and to have reduced him to 
meekness and an apology, was all the satis- 
faction she desired. But she had no inten- 
tion of unbending too soon, so her voice was 
haughty, and there is no knowing how long 
158 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

she would have kept up a show of injury if 
there had not come an interruption in the 
shape of a small boy at the door demanding 
to see Larry. After a brief conversation 
with him Larry rushed in for coat and hat. 

^^Somebody wants me at the telephone,” 
he gasped, pulling into his coat-sleeves. 
^^They^ve got me on the druggist’s wire. An- 
other hitch about to-night, I suppose, bother 
it all! I’ll be back.” With this he slammed 
the door and vanished down the street on a 
dead run, leaving Bonnie to watch impa- 
tiently for his return. As he came back she 
could see plainly from the window that he 
had not been called to hear good news. He 
was running faster than before, and his face 
was flushed and expressive of intense indig- 
nation. 

^What do you suppose it is?” Bonnie said 
eagerly to her mother, but there was no time 
to speculate further about the matter for 
Larry had come upstairs, three steps at a 
time, and burst into the room, trying to tell 
his piece of news. 


159 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
sit down and get your breath before 
you try to talk, dear,’’ said Mrs. Horn at 
last. ^We really want to know about it, 
but we can’t make out anything you say.” 

^^Can’t,” panted Larry. ^^There’s not a min- 
ute to lose. They’re in town now, and it’s 
just luck they hadn’t got me before. I’m a 
gone goose anyway, I’m afraid, for there’s 
only that one train back and they know I’ll 
have to take it. They’ll corner me before 
I get to the station, and then it’s all up with 
me. The fellows never got wind of it till an 
hour ago, and they’re just crazy.” 

^^Got wind of what?” Bonnie was impa- 
tient now. “Catch you for what? Crazy 
about what? Do tell us what you really 
mean?” 

Calm now with the stillness of despair, he 
sat down on the edge of the sofa and ex- 
plained. “Why, you see,” he said, “the 
Sophs always do some kidnapping of fresh- 
men before this dinner, to try to spoil the 
fun, if they can. It’s an old custom, so of 
course we expected it, but we thought we 
160 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

knew the fellows they had their eyes on, and 
we’d got them out of the way for the day. 
But it turns out that I am the chief victim.” 

^^You!” exclaimed Mrs. Horn and Bonnie. 

^^Yes,” continued Larry. ^^They know I’m 
toastmaster, and so it would make the big- 
gest kind of a hitch to get hold of me. 
Spence and White overheard a secret con- 
versation. They had tracked me up here, 
and now the question is. How can I pull the 
wool over their eyes and give them the slip? 
What on earth can I do to escape them? 
The train goes in forty minutes, and some- 
thing’s got to be done at once. Fresh kids 
that they are. I’ll fool them somehow! 
Think of losing the dinner! My, but this is a 
pretty kettle of fish !” 

Bonnie had not been listening. Her fore- 
head was wrinkled with deep and absorbing 
thought. 

^^Couldn’t you hire a team and drive over 
by the back road?” she asked, but Larry’s 
refusal to entertain that idea was quick and 
emphatic. 


161 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

^‘They would think of that the first thing/’ 
he said. ^Trobably there are some men up 
there now watching for me. And I couldn’t 
afford it either, and it would take too long. 
And the milk train is no good, because 
they’ll watch that, too, if I don’t take the 
express.” 

Bonnie was still absorbed in thought. In 
a second she jumped up and shook Larry till 
his teeth chattered. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it, 
the very thing!” she cried. Come upstairs 
this minute and try them on!” 

There was a ring of success in her voice 
that Larry was quick to recognize. There 
was no time to lose in asking questions. 
Any one with an idea must be deferred to 
now. So they ran upstairs together, and 
Mrs. Horn, awaiting developments below, 
heard shouts and peals of laughter which at 
least told of a harmonious acceptation of 
whatever Bonnie’s scheme might be. Be- 
tween the bursts of laughter there came 
sounds of scrambling over her head, and 
presently the plan was revealed, when Bon- 
162 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
nie and Larry walked into the sitting-room 
and stood before her — twins indeed. 

Bonnie the real was dressed as before 
in a house dress, but the other, the newly- 
fledged Bonnie, wore a cloth suit with a 
long full skirt and heavy coat. Furs hid 
her throat and ears, assisted by the folds of 
white chiffon which were wound around her 
neck and tied in a large bow at the back. 
The curls escaping from under a large 
plumed hat were held in place by a thin net 
veil over which hung a loose one of chiffon. 
The veiled lady and the unveiled one looked 
marvellously alike. Seen through the haze 
of chiffon and net, the red cheeks, brilliant 
eyes, and contour of face of the veiled lady 
were exactly those of the unveiled counter- 
part by her side, and Mrs. Horn was im- 
mensely amused at the spectacle. ^‘Fine!^’ 
she exclaimed. ^‘And I believe if any one 
can carry it off, you can, Larry. But do be 
sure not to raise your veil, and how about 
your voice, and your hands and feet?” 

^^Oh, my voice is all right,” said Larry, in 
163 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
such an exact imitation of Bonnie’s intona- 
tion that Mrs. Horn nodded her approval, 
and Larry continued hastily: haven’t 

taken girls’ parts in plays all these years for 
nothing, Mum dear. As to my hands and 
feet — look here” — he showed her a delicately 
gloved hand and thrust out a femininely clad 
foot. ^^They’re the shoes I had made on a 
girl’s last for the play two years ago, and you 
know I always could squeeze into Bonnie’s 
gloves. But my, how they pinch! They may 
fly to pieces at any minute. I’ll take a muff 
and keep them out of sight all I can. Well, 
this is the flrst time in my life I was ever 
glad to be small. I tell you what, it is a 
risk. If they are half as keen as I think they 
are, they will smell a rat right away. But 
I’ll try it anyhow. It’s about train time 
now. Wish me good luck, and, Bonnie, keep 
yourself dark for the rest of the day, please.” 

With hurried promises and good wishes 
they waved him off, and Bonnie even sent an 
old shoe flying over the banisters after him. 
Then she and her mother watched him swing 
164 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
down the street, holding up his dress in an 
imitation of Bonnie^s way of doing it that 
was ridiculously funny. As he disappeared 
in the hazy distance Bonnie sighed: ^^Oh, if 
I were only at the station to see the fun! 
How can I ever wait to hear how it all turns 
out 

Meanwhile Bonnie the unreal was passing 
through Main Street with exactly the right 
feminine gait. At a turn in the street he 
suddenly came face to face with the dreaded 
foe. For a moment his heart stood still with 
fear of the result, then he grew calmer, as 
two hats came off, and two sophomores 
whom he knew were friends of Bonnie^s 
smiled their prettiest at him, saying: 

^^Miss Horn, this is an unexpected pleas- 
ure.” 

^^It certainly is for me,” rejoined Bonnie, 
dimpling and smiling in a most engaging 
fashion. ^^It is so stupid to walk to the sta- 
tion alone, and I must catch this train. I 
hope you were not going up to make that 
long-promised call on me, were you?” 

165 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
this time.” The speaker, Will Gates, 
blushed and stammered as a small boy might 
have done. ‘^This is purely a business trip, 
and that always has to come before pleasure, 
you know. The next time we will put pleas- 
ure first, if we may?” 

shall be delighted.” The glance with 
which she accompanied the words was ex- 
hilarating, and both fellows felt proud and 
pleased to be walking with such a charming 
girl. After a moment’s silence Will Gates 
asked : 

^^Seen your brother lately?” 

His companion smiled. ^Wes, indeed,” 
she said. ‘^He was at the house this very 
afternoon. He was all excitement over their 
dinner. It comes off to-night, as I suppose 
you know, but of course you have no interest 
in it, high and mighty upper classmen that 
you are.” 

Again young Gates blushed. ^Tndeed we 
are all interested in anything that concerns 
your brother,” he rejoined, with marked em- 
phasis on the your, which Bonnie acknowl- 
166 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

edged by a coy glance, as Gates continued: 
^^But, by the way, if he is due at the dinner 
to-night, he ought to be taking this train. 
Have they made a special dispensation that 
lets you in too?’’ 

Bonnie laughingly shook her head. ^Tn- 
deed I only wish they would let the girls go,” 
she said. ^^My uncle and aunt live in Green- 
boro, just the other side of Courtney, you 
know. They have no young people in the 
family, and they do certainly give me per- 
fectly lovely times. Dear me, isn’t that the 
train now? We must hurry.” 

They quickened their pace, and as they 
reached the station Will Gates said: ^^But 
how about your brother? He isn’t even in 
sight.” 

The train was drawing into the depot, and 
Bonnie replied carelessly: ^^Oh, there is the 
milk-train in twenty minutes, you know. In 
a desperate case he has that flagged. He 
may have been detained by something im- 
portant.” By this time, with the assistance 
of both men, she had mounted the car-steps 
167 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

and stood looking down at them with a smile 
at once patronizing and bewitching. 

^^This has been such a short talk/’ she said, 
ruefully. ^Why not jump in and go back 
with me? It is so dull to go alone. I am 
sure your business will keep. Do come!” 

Will Gates and Jack Wilder exchanged 
glances, and the latter shook his head vio- 
lently to prevent Gates from yielding. 
Gates was a fine fellow, but a pretty girl 
could always wind him around her finger, 
and his companion thought he detected signs 
of weakening in him. The milk-train was 
their business now, so he shook his head, and 
Gates understood and responded to Bonnie’s 
invitation with a hasty refusal. Her disap- 
pointment was evident, but she had only 
time to call out: ^^So sorry! If you want to 
see Larry about anything and he doesn’t 
take the milk-train, he might drive home by 
the back road. You are sure to find him 
somewhere if you go about it right. So glad 
to have met you!” 

As she finished the sentence the train 
168 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
moved out of the station, and reluctantly the 
two men turned away. Presently Gates 
spoke with grim determination. must 

get him,” he. said. “Some way or other he has 
got wind of this, or he’d have made the 
train. I wonder if she knew?” 

“Doubt it,” said Jack Wilder, decidedly. 
“If she saw him this afternoon and heard 
about it, she would have given the whole 
thing away. Girls always do, you know.” 
Which sage remark plainly showed Jack’s 
ignorance of feminine characteristics. 

“It seemed pretty mean to get what we 
did out of her,” said Will Gates, but his com- 
panion was harder of heart. “Oh, it’s a fair 
game,” he said, “and we haven’t bagged our 
bird yet. My, how much she looks like him. 
I had half a mind to kidnap her in his placef 
Now for the back road and the milk-train!” 

Meanwhile the train was speeding swiftly 
on its way, and Larry, sinking into a seat, 
heaved a mighty sigh of relaxation and re- 
lief; then began by slow stages to throw 
back veils and mop the perspiration from 
12 169 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 

his face, saying to himself: far so good! 

I am not caught yet, and I haven’t told a 
single lie so far. Phew! How do girls ever 
stand wearing all this toggery?” 

The milk-train was met and the back road 
was barricaded by the eager Sophs, but no 
victim fell into their hands, and there was 
gnashing of teeth and deepest chagrin when 
too late for vengeance they realized that 
they had been beaten in open warfare by two 
quick-witted foes, and one of them the pret- 
tiest girl in Greene County. 

The freshmen assembled at the appointed 
hour in the private dining-room of Roger’s 
restaurant and endured a period of terrible 
suspense. The toastmaster had not arrived! 
He was known to have been in Unionsville 
a few hours before; the detective Sophs had 
been tracked there, too. What had hap- 
pened? Had their telephoned warning to 
Larry been of no avail? The wildest conjec- 
tures were afloat, when suddenly the door 
flew open in a most dramatic way and ad- 
mitted — who? — why, by what right? No 
170 



No woman had ever been so bold before 


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THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
woman had ever been so bold before. Ah — 
the veiled lady threw back her face cover- 
ings while a familiar voice exclaimed: 
^‘Three cheers for the freshman class, boys! 
Three times three!’’ 

At last they understood it all, and were 
overcome by the magnificance of the risk 
and the victory. Amid cries and shouts and 
yells of applause Larry was rushed off his 
feet and carried around the room on the 
shoulders of four enthusiasts. For a time 
he bore himself properly, with an exquisite 
blush of maiden modesty mantling his 
cheeks. Then jumping down, with a quick 
change to his own voice and manner, he 
started it — the old college song: 

“ My Bonnie lies over the ocean; 

My Bonnie lies over the sea; 

My Bonnie lies over the ocean, 

O bring back my Bonnie to me.” 

An overwhelming volume of voices rose 
in song and chorus and cheers. Never had 
there been such a deafening uproar within 
the walls of Roger’s restaurant. Never had 
171 


THREE CHEERS FOR BONNIE 
there been such a wildly successful dinner 
within the precincts of Courtney, and never, 
never was there a more excited girl in 
Unionsville than there was on the following 
morning, when Bonnie the real untied the 
wrappers of a huge box, and buried her face 
in a mass of fragrant pink roses and violets, 
while she read and reread the accompany- 
ing card: 

‘^Three times three for Bonnie — our Mas- 
cotte. 

^^Class of 1902.” 

( 1 ) 


172 


APPLETONS' HOME-READING BOOKS. 

Edited by W. T. HARRIS, A. M., LL. D., U. S. Commissioner of E ducation. 

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6th. Stories from the Arabian Nights. By Adam Singleton 

3 th. Chronicles of Sir John Froissart. By A. Singleton . 

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My Captive. 

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“A mightily interesting little tale of the Revolution. . . . By ail odds 
the cleverest tala Mr. Altsheler has written.” — Philadelphia Item. 

The Wilderness Road. 

A Romance of St. Clair’s Defeat and Wayne’s Victory. i2mo. 
Cloth, $1.50. 

“ That Mr. Altsheler has caught the wild, free spirit of the life which he 
depicts is evident on every page, and nowhere more so than in one of his final 
chapters, ‘The Meeting of the Chiefs,’ where he vitalizes the life-and-death 
gtruggle of a friendly and a hostile Indian.” — New York Mail and Express. 

In Circling Camps. 

A Ronance of the American Civil War. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“ We do not often get as fine a picture as that which Mr. Altsheler paints. 
The tale covers the period from the election and the inauguration of Lincoln 
until the surrender of Lee and the entrance of the Northern army into Rich- 
mond . . . Every good American who enjoys the smell of powder and the 
crack of the rifle will appreciate the chapters that describe the battle of 
Gettysburg.” — The Bookman. 

A Herald of the West. 

An American Story of 181 1-1815. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

“A rattling good story, and unrivalled in fiction for its presentation of 
the American feeling toward England during our second conflict.” — Boston 
Herald. 

A Soldier of Manhattan, 

And his Adventures at Ticonderoga and Quebec. i2mo. 
Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“ The story is told in such a simple, direct way that it holds the reader’s 
interest to the end, and gives a most accurate picture of the times.” — Boston 
Transcript. 

The Sun of Saratoga. 

A Romance of Burgoyne’s Surrender. i2mo. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cents. 

“ Taken altogether, ‘ The Sun of Saratoga’ is the best historical novel of 
American origin that has been written for years, if not, indeed, in a fresh, 
simple, unpretending, unlabored, manly way, that we have ever read.” — New 
York Mail and Express. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


THE LIBRARY OF USEFUL STORIES. 

Illustrated* I6mo* Cloth, 35 cents net per volume; 
postage, 4 cents per volume additional* 

The Story of Extinct Civilizations of the West* By Robert 
E. Anderson, M. A., F. A. S. 

The Story of Alchemy. By M. M. Pattison Muir* 

The Story of Animal Life. By B. Lindsay. 

The Story of the Art of Music. By F. J. Crowest. 

The Story of the Art of Building. By P. L. Waterhouse. 
The Story of King Alfred. By Sir Walter Besant. 

The Story of Books. By Gertrude B. Rawlings. 

The Story of the Alphabet. By Edward Clodd. 

The Story of Eclipses. By G. F. Chambers, F. R.A.S. 

The Story of the Living Machine. By H. W. Conn. 

The Story of the British Race. By John Munro, C. E. 

The Story of Geographical Discovery. By Joseph Jacobs. 
The Story of the Cotton Plant. By F. Wilkinson, F. G. S. 
The Story of the Mind. By Prof. J. Mark Baldwin. 

The Story of Photography. By Alfred T. Story. 

The Story of Life in the Seas. By Sydney J. Hickson. 

The Story of Germ Life. By Prof. H. W. Conn. 

The Story of the Earth’s Atmosphere. By Douglas Archibald, 

The Story of Extinct Civilizations of the East. By Robert 
Anderson, M. A., F. A. S. 

The Story of Electricity. By John Munro, C. E. 

The Story of a Piece of Coal. By E. A. Martin, F. G. S. 

The Story of the Solar System. By G. F. Chambers, F. R. A. S 
The Story of the Earth. By H. G. Seeley, F. R. S. 

The Story of the Plants. By Grant Allen. 

The Story of “ Primitive ” Man. By Edward Clodd. 

The Story of the Stars. By G. F. Chambers, F. R. A. S. 

OTHERS IN PREPARATION. 


D* APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK* 


A HISTORY OF NEW YORK IN STORY FORM. 


The Story of the Empire State. 

From 1600 to 1902. 

By Gertrude Van Duyn Southworth. With 
illustrations and map. i2mo. Cloth, net, 75 cents. 

This brief history is carefully adapted to the 
grade in which this study is required by the Depart- 
ment of Public Instruction. The book furnishes a 
bright, readable, elementary narrative of the develop- 
ment of the greatest commonwealth in the American 
Republic — the first in population, wealth, and indus- 
try. Every son of New York that reads this book will 
acquire an intelligent idea of the magnificent history 
of his native State and of her present power and vast 
resources. It gives just the facts and incidents that 
lend picturesqueness to the narrative and at the same 
time insure appreciation of the influences that have 
brought such order out of the wilderness described 
in Chapter I. 

The literary style is fresh, animated, clear, and 
strong. The author has seized on the salient points 
of each period for her special audience. She de- 
scribes New York social life, habits, customs, and 
personalities, from the Five Nations of the Long 
House to the meeting of the united nation at the 
Pan-American Exposition. She clusters the details 
of each event around the living actors, rather than 
around the abstract principles they set forth. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO. LONDON. 


A DELIGHTFUL TEXT-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS. 


A Landmark History of New York. 

By Albert Ulmann. With many Illustra- 
tions. i2mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

The idea of an elementary text-book is main- 
tained throughout. The treatment is clear and 
simple — suitable to youthful readers. A charming 
colloquial and narrative style makes it very enter- 
taining for reading or study. Locates historic sites 
and reproduces tablets and inscriptions, weaves about 
them a consecutive historic narrative, and thereby 
adds realistic force to historical information. 

Press Opinions. 

‘‘ A veritable mine for students of local history, and a treasure 
for the library of any broad reader.” — New York World. 

“ The author has hit upon a plan that adds to the intrinsic 
interest of his matter.” — New York Herald, 

The book will probably prove somewhat of a surprise even 
to those of us who fancy we know our New York rather well, and 
nothing could be more interesting than to pay a visit to the localities 
described.” — New York Times Saturday Supplement. , 

“ The author tells it all so entertainingly, and pictures it so 
variously and strikingly, that he gives a new life and suggestiveness 
to municipal annals. Such a contribution toward the awakening of 
a civic spirit should be gratefully received.” — New York Tribune. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO. LONDON. 


SONGS FROM THE SUNNY SOUTH. 


Up from Georgia. 

A Volume of Poems by Frank L. Stanton, 
author of “ Songs of the Soil/’ i6mo. Cloth, gilt 
top, uncut, $1.20 net. Postage, 12 cents additional. 

“ Mr. Stanton is a true poet. He has melody and grace; he sees every- 
thing, no matter how homely and commonplace, in a poetical light. . . . 
This volume contains io6 poems, and they all make you think of rippling 
sunshine.” — The Literary Digest^ New York. 

“ This new volume of lyrics from the graceful pen which gave us 
‘ Songs of the Soil ’ will be welcomed by all who love the simple, sweet, 
and sincere melodies which have made the name of Frank L. Stanton a 
household word in so many Southern homes. Mr. Stanton is a poet of 
nature, not of art.” — The News and Courier, Charlestott, S. C. 

“One must never dissect Frank Stanton with the knife used in 
ordinary criticism. He sings to the heart, not to the head. One is simply 
to enjoy the freshness, gladness, the lilt and rhythmic flow, the human 
sympathy and genial kindliness, the fun and mischief, without asking for 
the profound, sublime, or grand.”— 7*^^ Chronicle, Chicago. 

“A very wise man, in an age long since past, declared that ‘A 
merry heart doeth good like a medicine.’ Mr. Stanton’s poems are 
surely songs from a merry heart, and they are a good and withal a very 
palatable medicine for melancholia, pessimism, and all that broods of 
ills, which are increased rather than dispelled by so much of the present- 
day literature. Mr. Stanton’s songs of good cheer are a ‘ sovereign 
remedy.’ His poems are like glimpses of sunshine irradiating a gray 
and gloomy day.”— The Messenger, St. Albans, Vt. 

Songs of the Soil. 

By Frank L. Stanton. i6mo. Gilt top, 

uncut, $1.50. 

“ The writings of no American poet have achieved such wide popu- 
larity, if we are to measure popularity by the daily and weekly news- 
papers of the country, or by the interest which makes itself manifest in 
private correspondence, or by the appreciation which betrays itself in the 
irresistible desire of composers, professionals, and amateurs to give a 
musical setting to the poems.”— Chandler Harris in the Preface. 

Little Folks from Georgia. 

In preparation. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


THE STORY OF THE WEST SERIES. 

Edited by RIPLEY HITCHCOCK. 


The Story of the Trapper. 

By A. C. Laut, Author of “ Heralds of Empire.” Illustrated by 
Heming. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25 net ; postage, 12 cents additional. 

“A delightfully spirited book.” — Brooklyn Eagle. 

‘‘A rarely instructive and entertaining book.” — New York World. 
“Unexpectedly Boston Herald. 

“ Instructive and carefully prepared.” — Chicago News. 

“Excellent reading wherever one dips into it.” — Cleveland Leader. 


OTHER VOLUMES. 

Illustrated. lamo. Cloth, each, $1.50. 

The Story of the Soldier. 

By General G. A. Forsyth, U. S. Army (retired). Illustrated by R. F. 
Zogbaum. 

The Story of the Railroad. 

By Cy Warman, Author of “The Express Messenger,” etc. With 
Maps and many Illustrations by B. West Clinedinst and from photographs. 

The Story of the Cowboy. 

By E. Hough, Author of “ The Singing Mouse Stories,” etc. Illustrated 
by William L. Wells and C. M. Russell. 

“ Mr. Hough is to be thanked for having written so excellent a book. The cow- 
boy story, as this author has told it, will be the cowboj^’s fitting eulo|;y. This vol- 
ume will be consulted in years to come as an authority on past conditions of the far 
West. For fine literary work the author is to be highly complimented. Here, cer- 
tainly, we have a choice piece of writing.” — New York Times. 

The Story of the Mine. 

As illustrated by the Great Comstock Lode of Nevada. By Charles 
Howard Shinn. 

“ The author has written a book not alone full of information, but replete with 
the true romance of the American mine.” — New York Times. 

The Story of the Indian. 

By George Bird Grinnell, Author of “Pawnee Hero Stories,” 
“ Blackfoot Lodge Tales,” etc. 

“ Only an author qualified by personal experience could offer us a profitable study 
of a race so alien from our own as is the Indian in thought, feeling, and culture. 
Only long association with Indians can enable a white man measurably to compre- 
hend their thoughts and enter into their feelings. Such association has been Mr. 
Grinnell’s.” — New York Sun. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


THE AUTHENTIC LIFE OF LINCOLN, 


Abraham Lincoln: The True Story of a Great 
Life. 

By William H. Herndon and Jesse W. Weik. With 
numerous Illustrations. New and revised edition, with 
an Introduction by Horace White. In two volumes. 
i2mo. Cloth, $3.00. 

This is probably the most intimate life of Lincoln ever written. The 
book, by Lincoln’s law-partner, William H. Herndon, and his friend Jesse 
W. Weik, shows us Lincoln the man. It is a true picture of his surround- 
ings and influences and acts. It is not an attempt to construct a political 
history, with Lincoln often in the background, nor is it an effort to apotheo- 
size the American who stands first in our history next to Washington. The 
writers knew Lincoln intimately. Their book is the result of unreserved 
association ; hence, it has taken rank as the best and most illuminating study 
of Lincoln’s character and personality. 

“Truly, they who wish to know Lincoln as he really was must read the biog- 
raphy by his friend and law-partner, W. H. Herndon. This book was imperatively 
needed to brush aside the rank ^owth of myth and legend which was threatening 
to hide the real lineaments of Lincoln from the eyes of posterity. . . . There is no 
doubt about the faithfulness of 'Mr. Herndon’s delineation. The marks of unflinch- 
ing veracity are patent in every line.’’ — New York Sun. 

“The three portraits of Lincoln are the best that exist; and not the least char- 
acteristic of these, the Lincoln of the Douglas debates, has never before been 
engraved. . . . Herndon’s narrative gives, as nothing else is likely to give, the 
material from which we may form a true picture of the man from infancy to matu- 
rity.’’ — The Nation. 

“ Mr. Herndon is naturally a very direct writer, and he has been industrious in 
gathering material. Whether an incident happened before or behind the scenes, is 
all the same to him. He gives it without artifice or apology. He describes the life 
of his friend Lincoln just as he saw it.’’ — Cincirnati Corntnercial Gazette. 

“ A remarkable piece of literary achievement — remarkable alike for its fidelity 
to facts, its fulness of details, its constructive skill, and its literary charm.’’ — New 
York Times. 

“ It will always remain the authentic life of Abraham Lincoln.” — Chicago Herald, 

Lincoln in Story. 

The Life of the Martyr President told in Authenticated 
Anecdotes. Edited by Silas G. Pratt. Illustrated. 
i2mo. Cloth, 75 cents net ; postage, 9 cents additional. 

“ An excellent oompilation on a subject of which the American people never 
grow tired.” — Boston Transcript. 

“A valuable and exceedingly interesting addition to Lincoln literature.” — 
Brooklyn Standard-Union. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


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